


the one with all the football

by irishmizzy, miss_bennie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - America, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-04-29 14:46:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 125,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5131535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishmizzy/pseuds/irishmizzy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_bennie/pseuds/miss_bennie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Senior year was supposed to be the best ever – that is, until Louis goes through a breakup over the summer and Zayn starts acting weird. With everything falling apart, Niall, Liam, and Harry are doing their best to keep it together, but it’s easier said than done. If nothing else, at least Niall’s got Harry. </p><p>[2015 One Direction as told through an American College AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to [ritasfault](http://ritasfault.tumblr.com) for making the artwork for [this post](http://irishmizzy.tumblr.com/post/132414755385/the-one-with-all-the-football-irishmizzy)! The completed fic is super-long, so we'll be posting a new chapter every third day.

Niall’s hanging the last of his shirts in his closet when Liam knocks on his door.

“Holy shit,” he says, looking around, “you’re almost -- how did you get all this done so fast? I’ve been here a week and most of my stuff’s still in boxes.”

Niall laughs. “Did you want me to do yours next?”

It’d be fair, probably, since Liam and his dad are the ones who’d moved all the furniture in and assembled it. It made it ten times easier for Niall to roll up to the complex with his suitcases and start unpacking immediately. He really owes the Paynes for storing most of his stuff in their basement this summer. 

“Eh, I’ll get to it eventually.” Liam isn’t bothered by the clutter the way Niall is. “I just wanted to let you know I’m headed over to the girls’ now. Didn’t know if you wanted to come with.”

Niall narrows his eyes. “Are you going for fun or does Sophia need her bed assembled?”

“Sophia’s bed is already together!” Liam says, but after a moment he sighs. “They can’t figure out Eleanor’s desk.”

Niall bursts out laughing.

“It’s not her fault the instructions are in Swedish!” 

“It’s an Ikea desk,” Niall argues, “there are pictures, too!”

“So you don’t want to come help?” Liam looks vaguely disappointed. “Soph said their fridge is stocked.”

Niall looks pointedly over his shoulder to the can of beer on his desk.

“Fiiiine,” Liam sighs heavily, turning on his heel. “See if I assemble a desk for _you_ ever again, though.”

“You know you love me more than anyone else!” Niall hollers after him, Liam’s laugh echoing down the hall.

It’s not that Niall doesn’t want to help, it’s just. The whole situation is so fucked up right now, it feels like going over to Sophia and Eleanor’s would be a betrayal of sorts. It had been a mindfuck when Louis called him over the summer, dead-drunk and going on about how he and Eleanor were over. Three years together, gone just like that, a month before they were all set to head back to school.

Niall turns his music back up, humming along to Fleetwood Mac as he flattens the boxes he’s been cramming his shit into for the past few years. He’s not taking sides; he’ll see Eleanor eventually. But he’s known Louis longer, so. It feels important that he sees Louis first.

As if on cue, his phone buzzes.

_NIALL WE’RE BORED COME HELP US_

Harry’s sent a picture of their fully-stocked fridge along with his text. Niall doesn’t need to be asked twice.

**

“So when you said ‘bored’ you meant ‘weak.’” Niall grunts under the weight of Harry’s mattress. He and Louis had been standing outside, unloading their crap from the back of a borrowed pick-up.

Harry, at least, has the decency to look sheepish. 

“This is why I have trust issues,” Niall says, dropping the mattress on Harry’s bed frame. “Is there even any beer in your fridge? Harry. Was that --”

“Calm your tits, there’s beer,” Louis says, shoving Harry’s bed closer to the wall. “This’d be going so much faster if you’d brought Liam.”

“Liam had to go build furniture for a different apartment full of girls,” Niall says. It’s already out of his mouth when he realizes, wincing. 

Fifteen different expressions cross Louis’s face before he lands on fake-apologetic. “Oh no, we lied, there _isn’t_ any beer. Guess you should go.”

“I knew it! You only want me for my strength. This is low, for both of you.” Niall shakes his head, pretending to be disappointed. He doesn’t know how long he should keep this charade up. He doesn’t want to look at Louis to find out if a different look has settled on his face.

“There’s like, three boxes left, come on.” Harry heads for the door, shoving Niall’s shoulder so he’ll go, too.

“Shit,” Niall hisses once they’re outside. “It was just a joke, I didn’t --”

“I know,” Harry says. “He does, too. It’s fine. It’ll be fine.”

Niall doesn’t fully believe him but he nods anyway. This is just -- they’ve all been back for like, less than a day and things are already weird. So much for senior year being the greatest year ever, he thinks, and then stomps down on the thought. It’s too early to make that kind of judgement. Everything’ll settle down soon enough, and then it’ll be sick.

Harry passes Niall a box, then stacks one on top of it. “How was the drive out?”

“Not bad,” Niall says, trying to shrug with his arms full. He doesn’t envy his dad having to make the trip back alone. “Long, but. Pretty straight out. Loads of traffic in Pennsylvania, though. Your flight okay?”

“Yeah.” Harry holds a box on his hip, slamming the tailgate of the truck shut behind him and leading Niall back inside. “Same as ever. There was this article about the Himalayas in the airplane magazine -- not Sky Mall, but the other one, you know which one I’m talking about? The one they always put in the pockets.”

Niall tries to listen, really, but Harry’s talking himself in circles and their apartment is a war zone -- even worse than his and Liam’s -- so he has to pay more attention to where he’s going than to what Harry’s saying. He nudges a door open, pausing when he sees it’s _not_ a disaster.

“Hey, wait, where’s Zayn? He’s all moved in already?”

Harry stops his monologue and turns around, coming back to where Niall’s peering into Zayn’s already-set-up bedroom. “Oh, yeah. I guess he’s been here since we could get in? Because he was here all summer.”

“Oh, right.” It’s been so long since Niall talked to Zayn, he’d barely remembered he’d had an internship in town. “Is he around then?”

Harry shrugs. “I haven’t seen him yet. He’s probably with Perrie.”

“At least this year they’re not fucking with the door open.” Move-in day last year had been… an experience. Harry closes his eyes like he’s trying to forget it. 

“Alright!” Louis comes into the room clapping his hands obnoxiously loud. “Who’s ready to party?”

“It’s three PM,” Harry says, making a face at the bottle of Jack in Louis’s hand. Niall elbows him sharply. 

“You lured me over here under false pretenses, Styles,” he says, “so we are _all_ doing shots.”

Harry grumbles under his breath while Louis doles out glasses, but Niall knows it’s all an act.

**

“You know what?” Louis slurs, hours later, a screwdriver -- one for drinking, one for assembling furniture -- in each hand. “I don’t think I need this that bad.”

Niall blinks at him, wondering if all the alcohol’s gone to his brain already. “You… don’t think you need a desk?”

“Nope.”

“We could have a group study area!” Harry says, eyes all lit up like he’s fucking Einstein. “With like, comfy chairs. Or just lots of blankets on the futon, I don’t know if we can afford money for chairs.”

“No,” Niall says, just as Louis says, “YES.”

Harry acts like he hasn’t heard Niall, turning fully to Louis as he says, “Gemma gave me this candle as a housewarming gift, it’s supposed to stimulate your neutrons--”

“Neurons,” Niall corrects, Louis snorting a laugh that Harry ignores.

“-- to increase brain power and memory and shit. We can put it in the corner of the study room.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea.”

“Thank you,” Niall says, craning his neck to spot Zayn standing in the doorway. “Welcome back.”

“You too,” Zayn says. He looks the same. Or, not the same at all -- his hair’s different again, but even that change feels familiar. 

“But we could all study _together_ ,” Harry says, his lip stuck out in a dramatic pout.

“And then I wouldn’t need this fucking desk.” Louis kicks at a stray piece of wood. He’s long since abandoned his phillips head.

“So don’t use it.” Zayn shrugs like that’s the answer. It feels easy enough. “Where’s Liam? Are we going out?”

“Yes,” Niall says, nodding. They’re definitely going out. He pulls out his phone, checking. “Liam is meeting us there in ten -- five? Fifteen minutes?”

Zayn reaches over Niall’s shoulder to pull his phone from his hand. “He’s meeting us in two minutes.”

“Oh.” Niall shrugs. He was close.

There’s the loud buzz of all of their phones going off at once. A group text.

“He wants to know where the fuck we are,” Zayn reads from Niall’s phone. “His cab just dropped him off.”

“Well,” Louis slaps his palms on the floor, “shot not telling him we’re _definitely_ going to be late.”

**

“Hey, hey,” Louis kicks under the table to get everyone’s attention in the crowded bar. 

“Ow.” Zayn’s glare must mean Louis kicked him particularly hard. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck is I am _trying_ to make a toast to our spectacular last year, if you want to stop texting for four goddamn seconds,” Louis says, the words only sort of slurring together. Zayn still rolls his eyes, annoyed. “Or were you too busy planning another camping trip?”

Niall freezes even though it means he’s caught mid-lean, trying to twitch away from where Harry’s hair is sticking to his shoulder. He doesn’t need to look up to know Harry and Liam are frozen, too.

No one’s mentioned it, how Zayn was the only one not at Louis’s mom’s wedding over the summer. How he’d RSVP’d yes and just not shown, the pictures of him on some hiking trip cropping up on Facebook a few days later. Even Louis had just shrugged it off at the time, and eventually Niall figured he had bigger problems than Zayn being a fuckface. 

The bar feels like it’s shrunk down to just them five, Zayn and Louis glaring at each other. The whole table shakes when Zayn’s phone vibrates. He doesn’t look at it.

“Shut the fuck up and make your stupid toast,” he says, the tiniest bit of heat in his voice. Niall’s not fully sure of what’s going on. He knocks back the rest of his beer quickly and then reaches for Harry’s cup, divvying it up.

Louis must kick him again, because Zayn jolts. “You shut the fuck up and I will.” 

Zayn makes a stupid face and Louis makes one back, a whole useless conversation in their annoying-as-fuck eyebrow language. By the time Niall’s finished Harry’s beer most of the tension is miraculously gone, Louis and Zayn the first ones holding their cups up, waiting for everyone else to join in.

“Wait a sec,” Niall says, making everyone groan.

“Fucking A, Horan.” Louis reaches over, grabbing Niall’s cup and dumping some of his own beer into it. “There, are we all ready? Can I make my fucking toast now or does someone need to piss first?”

“Now that you mention it,” Liam says, shifting in his seat. “Ow, Jesus, I was _kidding_!”

**

There’s something familiar about the start of the school year, a welcome pattern to it. Moving in. Seeing everyone again. Getting shitfaced for three straight days. Complaining about the price of books. Complaining about schedules. Complaining about their preseason football rankings. Niall loves it, even if it’s doing a number on his liver.

“Boooooooooooo,” Louis says when Niall tells him there’s no fucking way he’s going out tonight. “Boooooooooo.”

“Sorry, bro.” Niall could make up an excuse -- classes start tomorrow, and he does have aquatic ecology first thing in the morning -- but he doesn’t feel like it.

“You suck.” Louis is holding onto the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. “LIAM.”

“I said four minutes, Louis, Jesus.” Liam appears over Louis’s shoulder, making a face at Niall. It’s the same one he made last night, and again this morning, when Louis had woken up on their futon and reached immediately for a joint. The one that says _this is probably a terrible idea, but…_. They’ve been making that face behind Louis’s back ever since they were freshman, but it already feels like they’re making it too often this year. 

“And it’s been _five_ ,” Louis argues. “Tell Niall he sucks.”

“You suck,” Liam says dutifully as he pries Louis from the doorway. “Don’t wait up.”

Niall laughs. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

It’s weird, though, how once they’re gone he becomes fully aware of how quiet the apartment is without other people. Liam has been here almost constantly -- usually _with_ Sophia -- or else there’s always someone around. Tonight, though, with the windows thrown open and the sounds of crickets and distant music from back-to-school parties, it feels strangely lonely.

Niall flips on the TV for noise, ends up playing the video game that’s paused there. Liam’ll probably flip out later, but only for half a minute or so. It’s early days in the game, so it’s not like Niall getting killed will ruin anything. 

He kind of wants to crack open a beer, but it feels weird, drinking alone. Sad, sort of. Pathetic, in a way. He should’ve gone out.

“Niall!!!” he hears, and then the dull thud of a weird knock on the door. “Let me in!”

“Ow, what the fuck?” he scowls when he opens the door and Harry’s foot connects directly with his shin.

“Sorry.” Harry has the decency to look truly sorry. “My hands are full, I couldn’t knock and I didn’t know if you heard me.”

He pushes into the apartment, heading right for the kitchen so he can unload the six-packs balanced in his arms. 

“Please, make yourself at home,” Niall says, watching Harry shove aside all the stuff in the fridge so he can fit his crap in there. 

Harry ignores him, pulling out a beer for Niall and then making his way to the futon. Niall follows, resetting the game so they can both play. 

“Didn’t expect to see you tonight,” he says, once they’re both well into the game. He isn’t complaining, just stating a fact. Harry’s room is already overwhelmed with books and he knows Harry likes to get a jump on that shit. The fucking nerd. “Was the apartment too quiet without the dulcet sounds of Zayn and Perrie’s latest fuckfest?”

Harry snorts. “I haven’t seen Zayn in days.”

“Louis and Liam were going out with him tonight.” At least that’s what they’d said earlier.

“Oh.” Harry shrugs. “Yeah, I… haven’t really seen him since that night we all went out? I mean, he’s been around, I guess, but usually his door’s closed or he’s left a note that he’s with Shahid.”

“Excuse you,” Niall says. “He’s going by Naughty Boy now.”

Harry manages to make his laugh sound disapproving, even though Zayn had told them all exactly that. It had been the start of Zayn’s drunken rant about how great Shahid was at showing him the ropes this summer, how his internship was a truly life-changing experience. Niall’s pretty sure Louis’s eyes still hurt from how hard he’d rolled them.

“Do you want to try this?” Harry holds his beer bottle towards Niall, who leans forward tentatively. It smells weird. Fruity. He must make a face because Harry says, “It’s cider.”

“Get the fuck out of here.” Niall pushes Harry’s arm away from him. He shoots Harry’s character on screen, and then shoots him again, even though he’s dead.

“Unnecessary,” Harry says.

“Just like your fucking fakeass beer.”

“It’s _cider_.” 

As soon as the game restarts, Niall shoots him directly in the face.

**

When Niall gets back from classes, Louis is still sacked out on the futon. 

“Don’t,” he says when Niall turns on the lights.

“It’s like, noon.”

“And I’m dying.” Louis pulls a pillow over his face. “Liam tried to kill me last night.”

“Oh, for -- I did not.” Liam makes a face like they’ve already had this argument a hundred times today. Niall doesn’t know _how_ , since they were both dead to the world when he left this morning, but technically that was hours ago.

“‘Sure, we’ll do shots,’ you said!”

“That was you,” Liam points out, but Louis doesn’t seem to care. It’s like his hangover is at war with his anger, because he’s full-steam-ahead ranting from underneath the pillow. 

“And it was pitch-fucking-black in that place -- which, I don’t know about you but when Zayn said ‘the studio’ I thought ‘music studio’ and not, like, an actual shitbox studio apartment where the bathroom’s a foot away from the fridge, but whatever. It was a fucking black hole so who knows what the fuck we were drinking. And Zayn was like, hiding in a corner pretending he didn’t know us.”

“Really?” Niall asks. 

“No,” Liam says at the same time Louis yells, “YES.”

“He talked to us,” Liam says.

“For like four seconds, and then he and Naughty Boy fucking bounced to go talk about their new project or whatever even though it was Shahid’s stupid shitty grad student party and the alcohol was _garbage_ , Niall. You wouldn’t even believe. What party only has vodka and sprite?”

Over Louis’s head, Niall makes a face at Liam, who shrugs. “I left at like, twelve,” he says.

“ABANDONED ME, you mean.”

“You were talking to that girl from your interpretive personalities --”

“Interpersonal relations,” Louis corrects, earning a dead-eyed stare from Liam.

“Whatever it was, you were _clearly_ having a good time.” 

“Sounds like your whining is pointless, Lou.” Niall laughs. “Can’t believe we’re just a pit stop on your walk of shame. I’m insulted.”

“You should be fucking proud,” Louis says, swinging his leg out and catching Niall’s side. It’s not as hard a kick as it could have been. He must really be hungover. “Now make me some eggs before I die here and you have to dispose of my body.”

“Get Liam to do it, he’s the one who abandoned you.”

There’s a pause before Liam says, “Hey!”

**

He’s on campus, cutting through the student services building so he can get some relief from the blistering heat for two minutes, when he runs into Zayn. Literally.

“Sorry, man,” he says, and then, when he realizes, “oh shit, hey.”

“How are you?” Zayn asks, still bent over to pick up all the stuff that’s spilled out of his bag. Niall snags a few sharpies and an empty coffee cup, dropping them back into Zayn’s open backpack. “In a rush?”

“Not really.” Niall hadn’t been, he just hadn’t been paying attention to anything, too busy trying to watch some dumbshit vine Harry had texted him. “Got stats in a bit.”

“At three on a Thursday?” Zayn wrinkles his nose. “Gross.”

Niall shrugs. It’s not that bad. Could be three on a Friday. “Hey, do me a favor? I was gonna drop this off at your place later, but if you’re here now can you just -- hold on,” Niall pauses to dig through his own bag, “give this to Harry later? For spring break.”

“Ohhh, shit,” Zayn says, looking at the check before folding it carefully and sticking it into his pocket. “He’s been on me for this all week.”

“If you don’t give him the deposit it means you can’t go but FYI it’s non-refundable,” Niall says, imitating the same thing Harry’s been emailing and texting them since they’d finally picked the cruise. It’d been an entire summer’s worth of debates, and now that they’ve chosen March seems impossibly far away. 

“Next!” someone says and after a minute Zayn takes a step forward.

“Are you in line?” Niall looks around, confused. There is definitely a line and Zayn is definitely in it. 

“Yeah, I’m like trying to get into Shahid’s seminar. He said someone dropped it this morning.”

“I thought you didn’t need seminars? Did they change the requirements? I thought it was all like…” Niall waves his hand through the air like he’s painting.

Zayn stares at him blankly. “No, because I changed my major.”

“What? Now? To what?” It’s senior year. Niall doesn’t know how he even has the time left to switch.

“Anthro. I thought I told you when I decided.”

He definitely did _not_ tell them that. Was probably too busy sitting on rocks in the wilderness, thinking about the vastness of space and our finite time on this planet or some shit. Not that Niall’s angry about that whole thing, but like. A little bit. Even though it’s not his place to be.

“It was like a month ago,” Zayn says, chewing on his lip. 

Niall makes a face. “But you loved art.”

“Yeah.” Zayn shrugs, stuffs his hands in his pockets. The line shuffles forward again. “But like, after this summer, me and Shah spent a lot of time talking about shit and like, I think it’d be really cool to do this. Learn more about different cultures and how like, you know.”

Niall doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but he claps Zayn on the shoulder anyway. “That’s sick, dude. Good for you. You should come out tonight, we can celebrate. Louis already has me lined up for something, you can come with. Plus he’s like, getting harder to handle these days so it’d be nice to like, tag team him.”

Zayn’s eyebrows shoot up and Niall bursts out laughing, elbowing him. “Not like _that_ you sick fuck. Just like -- you know how he’s been lately, and he’s already said Liam can’t come because Liam complained that they were going out too much.”

“It’s the second week of classes.”

“I know! But Liam’s already tapping out, which is why I’m tagging _you_ in.”

“I can’t, I told Shah I’d hang out with him tonight.” There’s a long pause. Zayn runs his hand over his beard. “I could like, cancel, I guess.”

“What? Don’t be stupid, I just thought it’d be fun. You have your own shit, we’ll do it some other time. Seriously.” Niall doesn’t want to seem alarmist about Louis, because sometimes Liam can be melodramatic, even though it _is_ vaguely alarming how much he’s been going out. Or not how much, just like. How hard. The balls-to-the-wall, twenty-first birthday kind of partying. He sighs. It’s probably nothing. He’s probably overreacting. “Give that check to Harry for me?” 

“Yeah, of course.” Zayn reaches out to bump his knuckles against Niall’s. “It’ll be sick, I’m excited already.”

Niall goes to leave, turning at the last second so he’s walking backwards. “Do you think there’s a mile high club for the ocean?”

Zayn laughs. “I don’t know but I’m definitely joining it.” 

“Tell Harry I want my room far, far from yours." 

Zayn flips him off just as the line moves forward and it’s his turn to step up to the counter.

**

_HAMBURGERS OR HOT DOGS?_

Niall stares at his phone for what feels like a really long time. The screen seems blurry through the haze of beer.

_OR BRATS?_  
_OR SOMETHING ELSE? What do you want?_

“And _then_ when I asked him specifically to come, he said he was too stressed!” Louis scoffs loud enough that Niall can hear him over the music, which is impressive. “What does he have to be stressed about? It’s the first week of classes!”

 _Wtf are you talking about_ Niall sends back to Harry. To Louis he says, “Well he just changed his major, so…”

“I know! What the fuck is that?” Louis offers him one of the shot glasses the bartender finally brought around and, when Niall shakes his head no, does them both, one-two, without flinching.

“I don’t know,” Niall says, when he realizes Louis is actually waiting for him to answer. Zayn hasn’t been going out with them much at all since they’ve been back. He honestly doesn’t know what it’s about, other than maybe he really is stressed. It’s senior year; they’re all freaking out a bit, and that’s without having pulled the rug out from under their own feet the way Zayn has.

“It’s shitty, is what it is.” Louis signals for another round, which seems like a questionable idea. Niall glances at his phone. It’s barely one AM. He changes his mind, decides it seems like a perfectly reasonable idea. “This whole year so far is just shitty.”

“Lou.” Niall feels dumbstruck, both too drunk and not drunk enough for this. It’s a conversation they shouldn’t be having in this fucking shithole of a bar. It’s a conversation Niall isn’t prepared for at all.

“What?” Louis shrugs. “I’m just calling it like it is.”

 _FOR SATURDAY !!_ Harry’s text, full of football emojis and happy faces, feels out of place in this moment. _My mom’s panicking!_

Out of the corner of his eye, Niall watches Louis reach for two new shot glasses. 

_Tell her whatever. Burgers idc_ he sends to Harry quickly. 

“Hey, quit hogging it all.” He snakes a shot out from under Louis’s fingers, does it quick. “C’mon, let’s go see if we can smoke anybody at pool.”

**

Niall wakes up on a futon, Louis’s feet jammed into his armpit. It takes a full minute for him to piece together that it’s the shitty futon in Louis and Harry and Zayn’s place.

“What the fuck, why aren’t you in your own bed?” 

“Shut the fuck up before I murder you,” Louis says, digging his toes deeper into Niall’s chest. It actually hurts.

Niall rolls off the futon, ignoring Louis’s angry sounds, and propels himself in the direction of Louis’s room.

“Shhh,” he says when he stumbles past Harry in the hallway. Harry’s only wearing his boxers, his hair dripping all over the place like he’s just gotten out of a pool. Or the shower, Niall realizes belatedly. That would make more sense. He reaches out to steady himself on the wall.

“Are you still drunk?” Harry asks, laughing a little. “Don’t you have class this morning?”

“What day is it?” Shit. He rubs his eyes, hoping that’ll make everything clearer. It makes everything worse. “Yes.”

“Yikes.” Harry doesn’t sound horrified, though, just vaguely amused. 

Niall looks past him to where Louis’s door is shut tight. Zayn’s door is wide open though, his bed slightly rumpled. Niall takes a lurching step towards it. “You gonna be around long?”

“My family gets in at ten, so until then-ish.”

Niall nods. “Wake me up in an hour?”

“Of course.” Harry sounds farther away now that Niall’s got his head in the mass of pillows on Zayn’s bed. Everything smells weird, like laundry detergent and cigarette smoke and weed. Niall regrets lying down, but it’s too late now. “You can borrow clothes if you want, too. If you’re still alive then.”

Niall tries to shoot Harry a thumbs up but he doesn’t know if he fully succeeds.

**

“Have you guys ever actually _gone_ grocery shopping?” Sophia stares into the fridge like it holds all the secrets to the universe.

“Babe, what are you -- there’s food right here.” Liam reaches over her for the peppers on the top shelf.

She shakes her head, still staring. “This is a fridge full of condiments and beer.”

“Because we took all the food out for dinner!”

“He’s got you there, Soph.” Niall flips the chicken and steps away from the stove. He can feel his face getting flushed from standing over it. _See u then_ he texts back to Louis even though he already knows they’re going to be late meeting up with him tonight. Whatever. They’ll get there eventually.

“Fair,” she says. “But that’s only lasting tonight. What are you gonna eat tomorrow?”

“Uh, burgers,” Niall says.

“Hot dogs,” Liam adds.

“Brats, maybe.”

“Chips. Guac.”

“Those really good cookies with the frosting.”

“Oooh, yes.” Liam’s face lights up. Niall’s sure his looks just as giddy. 

“God bless Anne,” he says, holding his hand over his heart. Harry’s mom may have to fly all the way in from California to host a tailgate, but christ, does she know how to pull one off. 

Sophia sets about cutting up the veggies for fajitas, shaking her head like they’re both ridiculous. 

“I love when we do this,” Liam says, crowding up behind Sophia and wrapping his arms around her. He tilts his head so he can look at Niall. Sophia twists too, just so Niall can see the face she’s making. “We should do this all the time instead of just on birthday eves.”

“You’d have to buy more food then, Li.”

“Hush.” Liam pretends to bite her ear. Or actually bites it, probably, Niall doesn’t know. He checks on the chicken and then checks his texts. He laughs again at Harry’s _Try not to puke in class. Again_ taunt, sent while Niall’d treked to class this morning. He’s still wearing the shirt Harry loaned him, a color-splattered monstrosity that looks like it could be a magic eye picture. Niall hadn’t had time to bargain with him for something else. Hadn’t had his wits about him enough to even ask. 

It doesn’t matter. He’s pretty sure only like, three people laughed at him in class. But that could’ve been because Niall was listing pretty hard to the right and fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Hey, here.” Niall looks over when Liam sets a beer next to him. “To our first roommate dinner of the year!”

Niall leans in to cheers them. 

“And judging by the state of your fridge,” Sophia says with a smirk, “the last.”

“That you’ll be invited to, maybe,” Liam says, and then, “ow, no, babe, I was _kidding_!”

**

Niall wakes up to the fight song blaring in his ear.

“Fuck off,” he says, pushing the offending arm away. Sophia cackles and flops into bed with him. 

“LIAM,” she shouts, kicking her way under the covers, “BRING US BEERS.”

Niall’s upright by the time Liam comes in.

“Breakfast in bed, what a luxury.” He rearranges the pillow behind his back only to have Sophia steal it.

“Only for you, birthday boy.” Liam tries to wink as he sets a plate of toast on the bed, an unlit cigarette wedged upright in the pile like a pathetic candle. Niall really hopes he’s not gonna try to light it. 

“I can’t believe you guys don’t have candles,” Sophia says, sounding anything but shocked.

“Hey.” Liam pouts his lip out. Niall leans forward to help unload the beers he’s got balanced precariously in his other hand. 

“You are too kind, Payne,” he says.

Sophia snorts, leaning over to grab Niall’s phone where it’s going crazy on his nightstand. “Harry,” she says, passing it over.

There’s a bunch of texts -- too many, really, considering how early it is -- from Harry to the whole group, explaining where his mom’s parked and what the plan is.

_Z’s showering and then we’re going_  
_Where are you guys why is no one answering?_  
_ARE YOU STILL ASLEEP?????_

“Jesus,” Niall says under his breath. “Hey, Soph, c’mon.” 

He sends a pic of him and Sophia drinking in bed, the blur of Liam’s arm obscuring the bottom half of the frame as he’d tried to sneak in. 

He follows it up with _Still in bed but not asleep. $5 we beat ur asses 2 the lot_

Louis’s response is immediate. _Challenge accepted_

**

Niall’s had two beers and a turkey sandwich and Sophia’s abandoned them in search of Eleanor and some other friends by the time Harry and Louis and Zayn roll up to the tailgate.

“It’s their fault,” Louis says immediately, hugging Harry’s mom and then making directly for the nearest cooler, which Niall happens to be sitting on. “Shoo.”

Niall wrinkles his nose when Louis leans in to grab a water. “You smell like the floor at Jim’s.”

In retaliation, Louis grabs for him, hugging Niall close to his chest. “Well, we can’t all be beautiful birthday flowers, can we?” Louis’s voice is hoarse. He’d gone one way after they closed the bar down last night, Niall the other. Only one way had led home.

It sets off a chorus of “Happy birthday, Niall!” from everyone, one that spreads to the tailgates nearby. If someone he doesn’t know starts singing Happy Birthday to him, Niall’s gonna… probably just chug a few beers, but he’ll be annoyed about it.

“Oh, Zayn,” Anne says, holding out the arm that’s not still wrapped around Harry’s shoulders, “your hair, look at you. I haven’t seen you in forever! We missed you at the wedding, kiddo.”

Zayn ducks his head. “Yeah, I mi--”

“He had better things to do,” Louis says. Harry kicks him in the ankle and then looks chagrined when his mom scolds him. Zayn looks a bit like Anne’s reprimanded him, too. Niall wonders how the fuck they can move past this dumb conversation. 

“Thanks for all this,” Liam says abruptly, like he’s trying to fill the sudden silence.

“Seriously,” Niall says. “Don’t tell Liam’s family, but your tailgates are everyone’s favorite.”

It’s not a lie, technically. The Paynes tailgates have a grill and cornhole, which Harry’s family doesn’t bring because they have to fly. But Anne’s got catering trays of fancy-ass sandwiches and good beer and doesn’t cry at how much everyone’s aged in the past eight months like Liam’s mom always does.

“I _will_ tell and Karen’ll uninvite you!” Liam says. “No more brats for Niall.”

“Fuck you,” Niall laughs, “Karen loves me more than all of you combined.”

“False,” Zayn says, because everyone in the Payne family is tripping over themselves to adopt Zayn.

Niall rolls his eyes. “Second most.”

“Only because you helped Geoff get that sofa into the elevator freshman year,” Louis says. He’s produced a pair of sunglasses and is curled up against one of the tires so his whole body’s in the shade while he double-fists a water and a Red Bull.

Niall shrugs. That’s exactly why and he’s not ashamed to admit it. Back then, Liam had been unbearably shy, practically cowering in the corner of their dorm room while Niall introduced himself. Those first few days Niall had been sure he’d be switching roommates as soon as he possibly could. It’s insane, how everything changed. Or how nothing changed, really. He’s only ever lived with Liam.

“Remember when Liam had all that hair?” Harry says, laughing like his hair now isn’t bigger than Liam’s was three years ago. Like he doesn’t have it tied back in a dumbshit scarf that’s in their school colors.

“Remember when he didn’t drink?” Harry’s sister says, smirking as she elbows Liam.

“Now Gemma, don’t make fun of him,” Louis says, sounding more alive than he has all morning. “He only had one kidney.”

“One!” Zayn snorts into his beer. “And then his other one _grew back_!”

Harry cups both Liam’s cheeks in his hands. “The Freshman Miracle!”

“I hate you,” Liam says. It comes out all jumbled because of how Harry’s squishing his face.

“I mean, how does a kidney just grow back?” Zayn asks. 

“The doctor said --”

“It’s just _suspicious_ , Liam,” Louis interrupts him with, “that two weeks into freshman football season this kidney problem you’d ranted about --”

“During the entire orientation weekend,” Zayn adds.

“-- suddenly healed itself!”

“The doctor --”

“We were told you didn’t have one!” Louis shouts.

“HOW DOES THAT EVER HAPPEN?” Zayn’s got his arms spread wide as he tries to hold in a laugh. 

“Should I read this again?” Louis pulls out his phone, where Niall knows he’s got a tab for the Wikipedia page on kidneys open just like every other time they’ve had this argument. “The kidn--”

“Leave our medical marvel alone,” Harry says. He’s gone from smushing Liam’s face to hugging his whole head. Niall wonders how many drinks he and Louis had while Zayn was in the shower. 

“Niall, as a scientist --”

Niall snorts. “Environmental.”

Louis ignores him. “-- tell him what a load of biological bull--”

“He _won’t_ ,” Harry says, still holding Liam, “because Niall, like me, believes in miracles.”

Niall rolls his eyes but still raises his beer to Harry. Louis and Zayn make loud, disappointed sounds. Anne just laughs at them all. 

“Sorry to hear that, Niall,” Louis says. “And to think, I was going to let you have another beer.”

“It’s _my_ tailgate!” Harry turns around, ignoring Anne’s quiet argument that it’s actually hers. “Maybe I’m not going to let _you_ have another beer! All the beers are for us three.”

Gemma clears her throat.

“Us four.”

Louis just laughs. At some point, Zayn sat down directly on top of the cooler, like his scrawny ass is going to keep anyone from getting another beer. Niall really hates when they team up. When they’re like this it’s like war: you’re either on their side, or you’re the enemy.

Being Louis’s enemy is not something Niall ever wants to be.

“Joke’s on you,” Gemma says, appearing from the side of the car, “because there was another cooler in the back seat.”

Then again, being Louis’s enemy is sometimes worth it for the hilarious look he gets on his face when someone’s outwitted him.

“And,” Niall takes a can from Gemma, “in celebration of Liam’s miracle kidney --”

“Bullshit,” Zayn coughs, not even into his hand.

“ -- we are doing a celebratory shotgun.”

When she puts it like that, it’s impossible for anyone to argue.

“Jesus, Harold,” Louis complains when Harry sprays beer all over him and Zayn while punching a hole in his can.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, but the look he shoots Niall means it wasn’t fully accidental. “Ready?”

“One sec.” Liam passes his beer to Gemma and then efficiently punches a hole in his own can. “Okay.”

“On your marks,” Louis says. Niall edges his fingertip under the can’s tab.

Zayn follows with, “Get set.”

“Go!” they both yell, and everyone cracks open their cans. It’s colder than Niall had been prepared for, and distantly he registers that it’s hot as dicks out and he just hadn’t fully realized it yet. Like a frog in a pot of water.

“This is what I’m paying all this money for?” Anne asks, but she’s laughing.

“KIDNEY! KIDNEY!” Louis and Zayn chant. Niall remembers the first time they’d started doing that, right after Louis dared Liam to do his very first keg stand. Niall hadn’t actually thought Liam would do it. He’d been so proud.

Niall finishes first, crushing his can and then throwing up his arms, belching loud as can be. Liam’s done half a second after. He makes the same face every time, like he’s not sure he really likes the taste of beer yet.

“Jesus,” he says. “How do you always win?”

“Because you guys suck. Look, even _Gemma_ beat Harry.”

“Hey.” Harry frowns, wiping his mouth carefully. There’s beer splattered all over the front of his shirt, turning it see-through. 

“I’m so proud,” Anne says flatly. She still makes him and Gemma crowd together for a picture, their cans crushed in their fists. 

**

Hours later, Niall is hotter than he’s ever been. The end of the season gets so cold. He always forgets how unbearably hot the first few games of the season are.

“Harry,” Anne says, shaking her head when Harry gives up and tugs off his shirt.

“What?” He chucks it into the back of her car and then reaches for a bottle of water. Niall settles for pressing a fresh beer can against the back of his neck. “It’s hot.”

“Hot as ba--” Louis looks at Anne, catching himself just in time. As a diversion, he flicks Zayn’s ear. Zayn swats him away without looking up from his phone. “Talking to the missus?”

He tries to twist Zayn’s nipple as he asks, only Zayn catches Louis’s wrists and pins it to his chest at an awkward angle. Niall winces. It looks painful.

“Oh, how is Perrie?” Anne asks. “Is she coming?”

The pause before Zayn answers feels like it lasts a hundred years. Niall doesn’t know why it feels like such a loaded question. Louis yanks his wrist free from Zayn’s, landing a punch to his shoulder before darting away. Zayn glares at him. Louis glares back. It goes on for far too long.

“Niall, come with me,” he says abruptly, grabbing Niall’s arm and leaving him no choice. 

As Louis leads him away, Niall can hear Zayn mumble through a response to Anne. He’s vaguely glad he doesn’t have to hear it.

“Where the fuck are we going?”

“Those people have Fritos,” Louis says, like he’s been thinking about it for awhile. Like he wasn’t just looking like he was going to punch Zayn again.

It only takes a minimal amount of charm to get the bag of chips and a few beers. People love to give their shit to drunk students. Niall can’t believe this is their last first tailgate ever.

“What are you crying about?” Louis elbows him sharply. His mood’s shifted, bent sideways ever since his phone had gone off, loud like an alarm. Or maybe it was Zayn’s phone? Niall can’t remember fully. It was definitely a phone, though. Someone was on a phone.

“Did you guys go to the end of the row?” Harry asks, watching them stumble back with their bounty. “Those people had kale chips, too! You should’ve gotten me some.”

“Ew,” Louis says.

“Kale is a vegetable.” Niall’s pretty drunk, but he knows that much.

“You can turn it into chips.” Harry’s eyes are really huge. Niall doesn’t know how he isn’t wearing sunglasses right now. 

“You would make Niall eat a vegetable on his _birthday_?” Louis sounds so disgusted Niall’s heart bursts a little. 

“Oh, hey, there you are, man. I never thought you’d get here.” It seems like it happens in slow motion. One second, Louis is shoving Harry gently, the next, Zayn’s nearly tripping over one of the coolers in his hurry to greet Shahid.

It’s weird. Niall feels like he’s the exact same boat as Anne right now, because she’s also just standing there, vaguely confused by the way the air’s gone out of the room. They’re not even _in_ a room. Niall bites on his thumbnail.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Louis says. Zayn glares at him. Anne starts stacking plates and cups and napkins, putting things in the big garbage bag between the cars. Niall wonders if he should help her.

“Nice to see you again, Louis. You look as coherent as ever.”

The worst part is, Zayn snickers.

Niall thinks it could’ve been fine if no one had reacted. Maybe. But it’s like watching a line in the sand being erased and redrawn. Louis on one side, Zayn on the other. Niall doesn’t want to be on either. He doesn’t know what to do. When he looks over, Harry looks equally stressed.

Louis just smiles slowly. Horribly.

“Alright,” Liam says, stepping in. His hand hovers in the air like he’s going to stop Louis, or defend him. “Let’s not --”

“I thought you didn’t go to games,” Louis says, “because they’re exploitative and misrepresentations of the student body or whatever.” 

It probably would’ve sounded more derisive if all the syllables hadn’t slurred together, but whatever. Niall’s heard that dumbshit argument against the football team every year. 

“It’s just illogical to me that people will willingly pay money for this sport but no one’s going to our water polo games.”

“Because it’s fucking WATER POLO,” Louis yells. “Does anyone even know the rules to that game?”

Shahid crosses his arms. “Did anyone know the rules to football before they came here?”

“Yes,” everyone says, except for Zayn. Which is fair, Niall thinks, because Zayn hadn’t known shit freshman year, but… He doesn’t know what. It’s just weird, is all, seeing Zayn on the wrong side of an argument they’ve all been making fun of for years now.

“But you’re still tailgating?” Liam asks. It sounds innocent enough, but only if you don’t know Liam.

Shahid’s smile looks fake. “Malik said there’d be snacks. And free booze. I’m a poor grad student.”

“The poorest,” Zayn says, laughing. They do some complicated fist bump after. Louis’s eyes narrow.

“We packed it all up already. It’s almost kickoff.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Don’t be a dickhead.”

“I’m -- fuck you,” Louis says, right before he turns on his heel and stalks away.

“Louis!” Liam turns and then turns back, glaring at Zayn and Shahid before chasing after him. 

“Well,” Shahid says, “I guess he’s not over it, then.”

“Over what?” Niall asks quietly. He’s so confused.

“They had an argument at his party,” Harry says, low like he doesn’t want anyone to know he knows. “The one Louis went to, with the fancy terrible drinks and that girl from his group project last year, you know? The one with all that hair he’s been seeing lately.”

“Let’s just -- c’mon.” Shahid tilts his head, waving goodbye to everyone before he starts off. Harry pauses his monologue to wave awkwardly.

“I…” Zayn chews on his lip for a second. “I’ll meet you inside.”

“Sure,” Harry says. They both watch him go. “I don’t remember what it was about. Or maybe Lou never said? He just complained a lot about it and then yelled at me when I suggested he come to yoga with me even though it really would’ve helped restore his balance.”

“Right,” Niall says slowly.

“You look like you need this,” Gemma says, holding a beer out to each of them. Niall chugs half of it before he remembers to thank her. “No problem. Happy birthday, sucker.”

“Well,” Anne says, “at least _you’ll_ come to dinner with us tonight, right?”

“Duh, Mom,” Harry answers for Niall.

**

Zayn’s the last one to their seats, slipping in just after the coin toss.

“Hey,” he says, trying to wedge in on the end. Louis refuses to move. “Fucking A.”

He shuffles down until he can squeeze in between Harry and Niall. “I forgot to tell your mom thanks,” he says, voice low in the roar of the crowd. “Sorry for like… everything.”

“It’s fine.” Harry smiles widely. He means it.

Their kickoff is returned for sixty yards. Niall throws his arms around Liam and Zayn, all five of them leaping up together. Over Zayn’s head, he can see Harry still grinning. He wonders where they’re going to dinner.

** 

“Another win, that’s impressive,” Anne says. Niall nods slowly, trying to make his brain pay attention to the conversation. He’d managed to fall asleep in the car while they sat in traffic trying to get out of the lot, and that combined with his hangover is making it hard to follow anything. 

“You guys might actually go up in the rankings,” Gemma says. Niall vaguely remembers them announcing scores during the game, Clemson losing to fucking Duke, of all teams. 

Harry raises his hand, fingers crossed. “Hopefully.” 

Another prolonged silence descends on their table. Niall stares longingly at his empty water glass. He wonders what Anne would say if he started fishing the ice cubes out with his fingers. Probably nothing. He pokes at it with his straw, wishing it would melt faster, or that the damn waiter would come back. 

“So… how --” 

“Don’t, Mom,” Harry says sharply. 

“I was going to ask how classes were going,” she says smoothly, but even Niall knows that wasn’t the road she was going down. Gemma rolls her eyes across the table at Niall. He makes a face back. The rest of the game had been fine, mostly. Zayn fell asleep during the third quarter and Louis had produced an airplane bottle of Jack that he refused to share with anyone but Liam, but that wasn’t _abnormal_. Not really. 

“They’re good,” Harry and Niall say in unison. That, at least, wipes the worried look off Anne’s face. Harry starts some story about a meeting he just had with one of his professors -- Niall can’t be assed to listen to it, something about critical analysis and a bunch of authors’ names Niall couldn’t spell to save his life. 

It’s nice, though, to sit back in the booth and just let Harry’s voice drone on around him. Niall doesn’t fall asleep but he feels like he could, full and relaxed, his headache finally gone. 

**

“Hey, Liam, did you remember to order the keg for next weekend?”

Liam stares at Niall for a minute. “Are you really asking me about booze right now? God, I don’t...” 

He stops talking and sits down on the floor of the kitchen, looking clammy. Niall tries not to laugh.

“Yes,” Liam says, speaking very carefully. “I called Friday, was it?” He turns his head so he can press his cheek to the refrigerator.

“Gonna make it?” Niall asks around a mouthful of toast. Liam makes a sad sound. “What time did you get home?”

Liam sort of shrugs. The apartment had been empty when Niall got back from dinner last night, and all he’d heard from Liam was an incoherent text around eleven. It was so unintelligible, Niall couldn’t have met up with them if he’d tried.

“Where’d you end up?”

Liam closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. It seems like it’s using all his energy to speak. “Jim’s. Then… somewhere else.”

Niall pours him a glass of water and sets it by his knee. “Was that other place hell? You look like shit.”

“You should see the other guy.” Liam slumps farther down as he says it, so it’s not very convincing. 

“Did you all go, or…” Niall hates that it feels like a loaded question. Hates that he winces when he asks, and that he lets out a relieved breath when Liam nods.

“And then we got kicked out.”

“Wait, what?” Niall feels like a cartoon character, the way his jaw drops. “Seriously?” Liam presses his fingers to his temple when Niall starts to laugh. “Why?”

“I… think, I don’t remember. I think Lou said something and then Zayn…” He pauses for a long minute, head tipped back, eyes closed. Niall nudges the glass of water closer, but Liam ignores it. “It was an accident.”

Niall stops laughing, remembering last year, when Zayn put his fist through a wall after Perrie found out he’d cheated on her. He hadn’t been there for that, either. Liam had, though, had been the one to take Zayn to health services so he could get his busted thumb put back the right way.

“No,” Liam says, eye cracked open so he can take in what must be a look of shocked horror on Niall’s face. “He broke a bottle, like, knocked it off a table. It really was an accident. Bouncer didn’t care, though.”

“Oh.” Niall’s heart stops trying to crawl out of his throat. 

“Yeah. So he went home but me and Lou kept on.”

“Obviously,” Niall says. The ghost of a smile flickers over Liam’s face. “And now you’re dead.”

Liam flops his hands out, palms up, like jazz hands but pathetic. “Yayyyy.”

“C’mon.” Niall dumps his plate in the sink and stoops to pick up Liam’s glass before it spills. “Pats game starts in ten minutes. Come die in front of the TV instead. It’ll be easier to roll your carcass up in the futon than scrape you off the floor.”

It takes Liam five minutes, but eventually he makes it out of the kitchen.

**

“You smell weird,” is the first thing Louis says when Niall finds him standing by the bike racks outside the dining hall.

“I had lab, we were collecting water samples.”

“Where? In the sewers?”

“No, on a fucking lake, Jesus.” Niall does not tell Louis that their visit to the wastewater treatment plant isn’t for another four weeks. “That smell is nature. Normal, regular nature.”

Louis scoffs as they weave their way through the lunchtime crowd.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Niall says. “When was the last time you showered?”

“This morning,” Louis says, reaching for a tray. He flicks Niall’s hat off his head as he does the same. Niall doesn’t turn around to flick Louis’s hat off. The world shouldn’t be forced to suffer the state of his hair today.

Niall can feel his phone buzzing as he’s getting his food, but his hands are too full to check it. 

“It’s from Harry,” Louis says, once Niall’s found the table he’s staked out. “I know what you’re thinking: no, Louis, I got three hundred texts while waiting for a fucking sandwich, there’s no way! But yes. They were all from Harry.”

Niall still pulls his phone out to check. Sure enough, Harry’s sent a screencap of some app on his phone counting down 166 days til spring break. For some reason, he’s also included relevant information about the trip, booking confirmation numbers and flight times. Niall doesn’t bother reading it. 166 days is far away. He sends back a thumbs up, looking at the picture again, laughing at Harry’s dumbshit _U CRUISE U (DON’T) LOSE_ caption on the countdown.

“He’s cruisin’ for a bruisin,” Louis says lowly. Niall snorts.

“I’m telling him you said that. He’s gonna love it.”

“Don’t.”

“Gonna set off a whole six months worth of cruise puns, Lou, and have no one to blame but yourself.”

“Fuck you.” Louis kicks him under the table, scooting lower in his chair when he realizes Niall had anticipated that and already has his legs tucked out of the way.

“Cruise control. Cruise around town in your PT Cruiser. Cruise --” Niall stops talking when Louis sits up suddenly, his whole body going rigid. “What?”

Louis’s eyes are wide. He shakes his head minutely. “Don’t,” he hisses when Niall starts to turn around. Oh, he realizes. Eleanor.

“Do you want to leave?” Niall offers, his voice low even though there’s no point in whispering. No one’s going to hear them in this crowd. 

Louis looks from Eleanor to his full plate and then back. 

“We can --”

“No,” Louis says, shaking his head. “No, it’s stupid. I’m being stupid, sorry. Let’s just. We only have thirty minutes anyway, since you were apparently off fucking yachting and got here late.”

“It was a rowboat,” Niall says, knowing which points to argue with Louis and which to let go. 

“I feel sorry for the girl who got stuck rowing you and those wet noodles you call arms around.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Niall flicks a bit of his crust at Louis, who laughs, but only barely. Niall watches him pick apart a cheesy breadstick without eating it. “Hey. We’re going out tonight, right?”

When Louis looks up his whole face has changed, gone smooth like a mask. When he smiles it’s sharp, borderline terrifying. “That,” he says, “is a stupid question.”

**

“I don’t want to stay here,” Niall argues. “Your futon is the worst. Like, there’s my bed, which I love, and then a slab of concrete that’s been pissed on, which I would not like, and then your futon, which is terrible.”

Harry nods along as Niall gestures with his hand the rankings of each place and then says, “Okay, but you’re staying here.”

“JUST STAY!” Louis yells from somewhere farther inside. His room, maybe. Or the kitchen. God, Niall would murder someone for some Papa John’s right now.

“Can we get pizza?” he asks Harry. “I’ll stay if we can get pizza.”

“All the pizza places are closed now,” Harry tells him, patting Niall’s arm like it’ll soften the blow. “You can sleep in my room, though, how’s that sound?”

“STAYYYY,” Louis yells, even louder than before. “DO YOU WANT ANOTHER BEER?”

“YES,” Niall yells back, because if he can’t have pizza. 

“NO,” Harry yells, louder than both of them. “For god’s sake, Louis, don’t open that!”

Zayn’s door flies open and he stands there, glaring at all of them, backlit like a monster from a horror movie. Harry takes advantage of everyone’s distraction to grab the beers from Louis’s hands. 

“Some of us,” Zayn says darkly, “are trying to sleep.”

“Oh, is it two PM already?” Louis asks sharply, while Harry apologizes for all of them.

Niall blinks at Zayn. “I didn’t know you were here.” At some point he’s gotten the hiccups. That’s annoying. 

“Where else would I be?” Zayn asks. Niall doesn’t have to look over to know Louis is rolling his eyes. 

“This is like the second time you’ve slept here all year,” he says, words slurred. 

“Lou.” Harry gently pushes a glass of water in Louis’s hand and then does the same to Niall.

“Just because I’m not here when _you_ go to bed doesn’t mean I’m not around,” Zayn says. Something about his tone is off. Niall thinks these hiccups are ruining his comprehension. 

“Oh really?”

“No, come on,” Harry says, getting Niall with one hand, prodding Louis along with the other. “It’s too late for this. Go back to sleep, Zayn. We’ll be quiet. Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Harry,” Zayn says quietly as they all trundle past. Niall’s in last place, so he can’t see the look Harry shoots Zayn. 

“Sorry,” Niall mumbles, but by the time he thinks to say it, Zayn’s door’s already closed.

“I’m just gonna check on Louis real quick,” Harry tells Niall, pushing him towards the bed. “Okay?”

Niall nods slowly, tripping over his own feet as he tries to kick off his shoes and pants. His shirt smells like the Coors Light some girl spilled all over them so he chucks that on the floor, too, trading it for one of the tees Harry’s got lying around.

He’s settled in bed, nearly asleep by the time Harry comes back in. He’s so quiet about it, tiptoeing around in the dark, that Niall doesn’t register he’s there until the bed dips.

“Alright, Ni?” Harry asks quietly. Niall nods in the dark, Harry patting his shoulder gently. It feels nice. “Good. Please don’t barf in my bed.”

**

“Well, I mean, he’s taking a lot of classes this semester, so it makes sense he’d want his sleep,” Sophia says the next morning, after Niall’s recounted the parts of last night he remembers. 

“It’s Zayn,” Liam says. “No matter how many classes he’s taking, he wants sleep.”

“Is he?” Niall asks her. “Taking a lot of classes, I mean.” He hadn’t thought about it at all. Sometimes Harry snapchats pics of the two of them in the library, going over readings for the one class they have together. Zayn’s usually dead to the world, drooling on some boring-ass looking book in them. Niall always thought that would make a good blog. Zayn sleeping on things dot tumblr dot com. He’s 99% sure it would go viral, like that Target kid.

She nods. “Eleanor said --”

“He’s talking to Eleanor?” Niall’s not proud of the way his voice gets high, but he can’t believe it. Judging by the look on Liam’s face, he can’t either. That’s like… Zayn’s been a cranky dickhead lately, but talking to El? It’s a fucking cardinal sin. 

“No,” she says, quickly and firmly enough that Niall knows she’s not lying, not even a little bit, “but I guess she heard from Max who’s friend said? I don’t know who exactly, just that he’s got like, a fuckton of classes.”

Part of Niall thinks maybe he shouldn’t have changed his major so close to graduation then. That part of him has a voice that sounds an awful lot like Louis. 

“Guess that’s why he doesn’t go out anymore, then,” he says.

“Please.” Sophia makes a face. “I saw him at The Patio last night. He left kinda early, at least for him, but he still goes out.”

Niall nods, telling himself it’s a stupid thing to be annoyed by. He goes out with the other Boston kids plenty, and Harry’s got his group of hipster friends that Niall would rather eat glass than sit in a bar with. Liam knows everyone in this goddamn town somehow, can’t get through a room without knowing at least four of the people in it. 

Zayn was just at their tailgate, anchoring their side in flip cup. Him going to The Patio with Perrie or people from his internship or whoever is… whatever. It’s nothing. It’s normal. Niall’s not annoyed.

“Wait a minute,” Liam says, poking Sophia in the stomach. “You told me you were busy last night!”

“I was!”

“You said you had a paper to write!” 

“I did!” Sophia squirms away from him, wedging herself between the back of the futon and Niall. He shifts so she’s got enough space but is still shielded behind him. “I still do! I guess El’s more convincing than you are.”

“This is a betrayal,” Liam says, hand over his heart. “I am betrayed. Niall, let’s go out tonight, leave this one here on her lonesome.”

“Sorry, Li, can’t.” Niall cranes his neck to wink exaggeratedly at Sophia. “I’ve got a paper to write.”

**

“How many do you think we’ll need? Like, is two dozen enough? If Perrie and her friends come that’s,” Niall takes a break while does the mental math.

“Eight,” Harry says. “So plan for twice that just in case and yeah, get two dozen.” 

It seems like a lot, but Niall pulls two cartons off the shelves, checking to see if any of them are cracked.

“No, Niall, the _free-range_ eggs.” Harry abandons their cart to grab eggs from farther down. Niall peeks inside once he’s set them in the front basket. 

“These are smaller and more expensive than my eggs,” he says. Harry stares at him, unblinking.

“Liam never questions my purchases.”

“Well then you should’ve asked Liam to come with you.”

“I did! He had to work.” Harry pushes the cart away in a huff.

Niall rolls his eyes. He’d been happy to go to the store with Harry, but that was when they’d first left home, an hour and six arguments about the right kinds of breakfast foods ago. “Why are you the one in charge of buying the food for our party, anyway?”

“Because otherwise you’d get the wrong eggs!” 

“Whatever,” Niall says. “I’m getting bacon.” 

“Do _not_ get applewood smoked, Niall. NIALL.”

“I KNOW,” he yells back, because he’s not fucking stupid. A couple moms with small kids turn and glare at him, but whatever. It’s not like he’s cursing or anything. And it’s like two o’clock on a Tuesday. Those kids should be in school, not in a Meijer hearing idiots fight about tailgate supplies.

Niall takes his time getting the bacon, considers grabbing sausage too, or turkey bacon for Zayn. Something else, maybe. Hash browns? That’s in a different aisle, though. Bacon’s probably enough.

His phone buzzes while he’s standing there. Louis’s sent _DON’T FORGET CUPS!!!!!!!_ to the group. Shit. Right.

He finds Harry already in the paper goods aisle. 

“There’s only red,” he says when Niall drops the bacon into the cart. Bacon. Eggs. Juice. Milk. That’s basically everything. “We need to find someone. Stay here.”

Harry’s gone before Niall can argue, jogging down the aisle to find an employee. Niall thanks Louis and then sends _u owe me_ to Liam and then starts his routine of refreshing his email, snapchat, twitter, instagram while he waits. Scrolls through pictures of Louis out last night, pictures of Zayn and some dog he’s met on the quad. Pictures of his friends from home and people who’ve graduated. No one else is in a supermarket in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday. Not even his mom. It’s weird. 

If he were Harry, he’d instagram a black and white picture of all these cups and caption it “Red.” He snaps everyone instead.

 _HAha local veggies?_ Liam responds eventually, and Niall tells him about the eggs. _They’re better 4 the chickens!_ Liam says. Niall stuffs his phone into his pocket in disgust. Everyone is teaming up against him these days. 

“First of all,” Harry says, appearing suddenly, “I saw your snap and the eggs are _not_ forty-seven dollars. And second of all, I got different cups, so we can go.”

“Did you get them from Texas?” Niall asks. “Because that’s how long you were gone.”

“Denise had to get them from the stockroom and then I had to fill out a comment card so she would be appreciated for her hard work.” Harry crosses his arms as he says it, sounding angry for having done something so nice. Niall bursts out laughing.

“Jesus, Harry,” he heads towards the checkout, knowing Harry’ll follow him, “you’re a piece of work.” 

“Your mom’s a piece of work,” Harry says. He chucks a granola bar into the car. “You’re buying that for me.”

“Technically everyone’s buying it for you,” Niall says, loading their things onto the conveyor belt, “since we’re splitting this bill five ways. Also Zayn met a dog today so have fun with that when you get home.”

Harry sighs heavily. Heavily enough that Niall feels bad -- Zayn’s always in a shitty mood after he meets a dog. Or a cat. Or any animal, really, because Harry and Louis and the apartment complex won’t let him keep a pet -- and reaches for a candybar, tossing it onto the belt at the last second. 

“We can split it on the way home,” NIall says, catching it before the cashier or Harry puts it in a bag.

Harry stares at it while Niall swipes his debit card. “We should stop for dinner before we go back, too.”

They’ve got a bunch of groceries that probably should be refrigerated sooner rather than later, but how long can a drive-thru take? “Yeah,” Niall shrugs. “Alright.”

**

“Fuck.” Niall wriggles his AC adapter, waiting for it to register. He tries unplugging and replugging it in. “Work, you piece of shit.”

“You shouldn’t talk about Louis like that,” Zayn says. “He’ll get a complex.”

“Shut up.” Niall laughs, punching Zayn in the stomach. “Give you one, more like.” 

He’s got a long break in between classes, that shitty length that’s too long to fuck around and too short to trek all the way back to his place. It’s easier to come and chill at their apartment, watch TV and try to get some work done, instead of screw around in the library or some shit. Fuck his lab for screwing up his weeks, making Mondays feel like a hundred years on campus and these Wednesdays feel like a hundred years of waiting around.

“You gotta turn the surge protector on, bro.” Zayn points towards the wall with his spoon. Niall follows along, cursing when he realizes he’s right. He kicks it on with his heel, relieved when his computer finally registers the fucking charger. 

“Thanks.”

“Sure.” Zayn bounces his fist off Niall’s skull companionably and then disappears down the hall with his cereal. Niall opens his notebook and starts working on his lab report, making a deal with himself that if he can get at least half of it done, he’ll be able to go out tonight. 

He’s got his headphones in, The Eagles playing low, so he doesn’t notice Louis is home until he’s yelling. Usually Lou’s not around midday, but he must’ve skipped class or something because the next thing Niall knows, there’s a war on. 

“Why the fuck would you FINISH the milk?”

“I thought you were gone,” Zayn shouts back, not even bothering to go into the kitchen. 

“Well I’m NOT. And if you FINISH THE FUCKING MILK you have to PUT IT ON THE LIST.”

“LET ME FINISH MY FUCKING LUNCH FIRST, CHRIST, MOM.” 

Niall watches Louis stomp by and then hears the loud crack of him slamming Zayn’s door open. “What the FUCK?” Zayn yells.

“Why are you such a LAZY SACK OF SHIT, is what the fuck!”

Niall realizes this isn’t something he wants to hear. He shoves his headphones back in and turns his volume up as loud as it can go. He doesn’t turn it down until Louis goes by again, the door slamming as he leaves the apartment. Shit.

It’s barely a minute before Zayn goes past, too. 

“I’m going to Perrie’s,” he says, belatedly, like he’s just remembered Niall’s still around. He doesn’t sound happy.

“Is that -- really?” Niall didn’t think Zayn spent that much time at Perrie’s since last year. Her friends are still pretty pissed about the whole cheating scandal and haven’t been quiet about it. Which is fair, Niall thinks. If it were reversed and Zayn had been assigned a group project with someone, only to friend them on Facebook and realize that person had pictures of Perrie sleeping in his bed, he’d probably never want to speak to her again, either. 

“What?” Zayn sounds like death when he turns on Niall.

“Never mind.”

“Do you have a problem with me, too?” 

“No?” Niall blinks, wondering how everything went so spectacularly off the rails. Maybe he shouldn’t have put his headphones in when people started screaming about grocery lists. “Zayn.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he says, and then turns on his heel and leaves.

Niall’s left in the echoing apartment. He’s got class in thirty minutes, knows Harry’s on campus for the next two hours. What the fuck.

He waits ten minutes, just in case someone realizes they’re being ridiculous and comes back.

When that doesn’t happen, he texts Harry. _How important 2 u is it that yr door is deadbolted when someone leaves?_

**

 _No one’s here_ Harry texts Niall later that afternoon. _Haven’t been robbed either, so that’s good._

Niall sends back the praise hands emoji. He remembers that he hadn’t gotten halfway through his lab report, either, but fuck it. He’s going out tonight.

**

“Maybe,” Louis says, loudly, right up in Zayn’s face, “maybe you just shouldn’t have liked those pictures then.”

“Lou.” Liam takes a step forward and then stops when Louis angrily twitches his arm away from Liam’s reach. 

“So this is my fault?” Zayn asks.

Louis laughs hollowly. “Well it’s sure as shit not mine.”

None of this was supposed to happen, Niall thinks, leaning against the brick of the building, watching everyone fight. Watching Liam try to stop it. He’s still not sure how everything went south. He’d been in the bathroom when Liam came shouting after him. They’d been having such a good night, all of them out together for once. He should’ve known it was too good to be true. Should’ve known that dumb fight over milk wasn’t the last one he would see today.

“I called for a cab,” Harry says quietly, just to Niall. He wonders if it’d be okay if just the two of them got in it. 

“I wasn’t on her fucking instagram,” Louis yells. Niall closes his eyes, tips his head back against the wall. It’s crazy, how even though they’re so close to campus you can still see so many stars. It’s so much brighter out here than at home. He knows it’s all because of light pollution, but still. It feels like it should be for some bigger reason.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Zayn says. It’s eerie how calm he is, the sudden shift in his tone just as unsettling as when the weather drops ten degrees before a storm. “If you could just get your head out of your ass for five sec--”

“If _I_ \--” Louis laughs, a hysterical tinge to it that makes all the beer in Niall’s stomach go sour, “if _you_ would just look at what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing? Tell me, Louis!”

“Okay, let’s move it along.” The bouncer, having had enough, emerges from the doorway, shooing them away. Thankfully, Louis and Zayn stop shouting long enough to listen to him. Niall doesn’t know if he could deal with bailing someone out of jail tonight.

“Our cab’s on it’s way,” Harry says, his hands folded together like he’s going to fucking bow to the bouncer. “It’s -- oh, here it is.”

His mouth hangs open as Louis climbs in, slamming the door shut behind him. 

“Louis!” Liam yells, trying the handle. It doesn’t budge. “Shit. Open the fucking -- thank you,” Liam says as the front door pops open. He climbs in. “Sorry. Thank you.”

The car’s gone before Niall can react. By the time he blinks, Zayn’s already on the phone. Niall can’t hear what he’s saying. 

“Zayn,” Harry yells as a second cab rolls up. “Come on!” Niall slides in, watches from the far side as Zayn turns back, saying something he can’t hear. Harry takes a few steps. Niall feels like he should slide closer to the door, hear what they’re saying, but he doesn’t. He watches the red glow from the meter instead. Eventually, Harry climbs in next to him.

“Shahid’s coming,” he says. There are lights in the back windshield. Niall turns in time to watch Zayn climb into that car. Harry coughs, gives Niall’s address to the driver.

“You can stay at ours,” Niall offers. He doesn’t know if that’s where Louis and Liam had gone, or if they went back to Harry’s, or to an entirely different bar. At this hour is possible.

Harry scoots closer, resting his head on Niall’s shoulder as the car takes a tight turn. He sighs heavily; Niall has to hold his breath so as not to copy him.

“Thanks,” Harry says quietly. Niall pats his knee. He doesn’t know what else to say.

**

Niall’s restless, thinks Harry must be too, because once they get back neither of them does a very good job of sitting still. There’s a movie on, some dumb late-night thing that’d been already playing when Niall flicked on the TV. It’s still early enough that the channels are still playing movies, not the stupid infomercials he usually ends up watching when he gets home and tries to force himself to drink a glass or six of water.

They both spin around at the sound of a key in the lock.

“Oh, hey,” Liam says. “I thought you guys might’ve stayed.”

Niall raises his eyebrow. “After that?”

“Guess not.” Liam scratches the back of his neck, toeing his shoes off before shuffling over. “Lou passed out like, immediately, so there wasn’t really a point in staying. I made my Uber driver stop at McDonald’s.”

“I love you,” Niall says seriously, watching him drop a sack of food on the coffee table. He’s suddenly starving, like all the weird shit from tonight had burned off enough calories to warrant another meal. 

“Where are you going?” Liam steps out Harry’s way as he trips a bit on his way out of the room. “Do you not want any?”

“No, I do, I’m just,” Harry’s voice gets quieter as he leaves, Liam making a face at Niall, who makes one back. Niall knows they’re all drunk, but he doesn’t _feel_ that drunk. Only when he like, moves. 

“So,” Niall says, still staring at the empty space where Harry just was, “tonight was fucking nuts.”

Liam snorts, rolling his eyes and reaching into the bag to pull out a burger. He passes the bag to Niall when he sits down. “Understatement, Horan,” he says with his mouth full. 

“I just think,” Harry reappears with Vitamin Waters. One of them falls on the ground and he spends a minute searching for it, voice muffled as he reaches under the futon, “if there’s a whole Facebook album of drunk pictures of you and -- aha! -- don’t go liking all her selfies the next day.” He triumphantly uncaps the bottle he’d fished out and takes a long drink. “That’s like, rule number one.”

“Rule one of what?”

“Life, Liam. Love. The pursui--”

“Shut up, stop, no,” Niall says, holding his hand up. “Is _that_ what happened?” He looks between them. He’d been in the bathroom, had come back out to everyone already yelling. “That’s bullshit.”

“That,” Harry points at him with a french fry, “is where you and Perrie disagree.” 

“Wait. Was she there?” Niall missed so much. He thought Louis was the angry one. He grabs a fistful of fries. They make his hand look like he’s got Wolverine claws.

“No,” Harry says. He tries to take another drink and misses his mouth, spilling red all down his front. “She like, texted him, I guess.”

“No.” Liam shakes his head. “They were fighting about it before Zayn got to the bar. Were you even paying attention?”

“I was peeing!”

“Not you,” Liam says, throwing his burger wrapper at Niall. He misses by a mile.

Harry, trying to wipe his chest off but somehow only making a bigger mess, shrugs. “It was loud in there!”

Liam looks up at the ceiling like he’s praying for help. “Where’s Zayn, anyway? Did he go home?”

“Shahid’s,” Harry says, at the same time Niall says, “Naughty Boy’s.”

Liam hums. He leans forward, dragging the bag of McDonald’s onto his lap. It’s only fries now, the grease wearing through the sides, turning them flimsy. Liam plunges his hand in, eating them by the fistful. On his other side, Harry’s given up on his shirt.

“What movie is this?”

Niall shrugs, leaning over for his own handful of fries. Harry uncaps his second Vitamin Water. This one’s orange. He’s gonna look like a fucking rainbow come morning.

“No fucking clue,” Niall says.

They make it to the next commercial break before Harry says, quietly, “Oops.”

Niall starts laughing before he’s even looked over.

**

 _Hey don’t forget kegs & eggs planning @ours 2nite_ Niall texts Zayn the following afternoon. He has trouble remembering this kind of thing on a good day, and now… Whatever. Niall’s only reminding him because he’s the only one who hadn’t responded to Liam’s group text this morning. Even Louis had managed a sarcastic _thx dad_.

He assumes, from the string of emojis he gets back an hour and a half later, that Zayn’ll be there. 

Or he wants Niall to fuck off to the sun. These days it’s hard to read his moods.

**

Zayn’s the first one there, which is weird until Niall realizes that it’s not, really. Zayn used to fuck around at their place all the time last year, come in and nap on their futon in between classes.

“Thought we said six,” he says, looking around the empty apartment.

“Yeah,” Niall clears a spot on the futon, dropping his books in a pile on the floor, “we told you six because you’re always fucking late.”

“Shut up.” He kicks Niall’s knee. It’s gentle but leaves a boot print on the bottom half of his shorts. 

“It’s six-thirty,” Niall says pointedly.

“Whatever.” Zayn’s laughing though, just a little bit. “Get me a beer, you’re a terrible host.”

“Get it yourself, I’m taking a quiz.” He tilts the screen of his laptop so he can see what he was doing. Fifteen minutes left. He really hadn’t been expecting anyone to show up until seven. 

“Are you talking to yourself again?” Liam comes out of his room in the process of getting dressed, pulling a shirt over his still-damp head. “Oh, Zayn, hi! You’re early.”

“You _both_ told me six.” 

“But that was Malik time. It’s like central time, an hour behind everyone else.”

Zayn stares at Liam for a minute, opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, and then takes a sip of his beer instead. Liam laughs, looping his arm around Zayn’s neck and leading him toward the door.

“There’s beer in my car, help me get it?”

“It’s not the keg, is it?”

“No.”

Zayn sighs heavily. “Then alright, I guess.”

He’s done with his quiz by the time they’re back; he can hear them bickering from his room, where he’s gone to shove his books and laptop. It’s not that he doesn’t trust anyone around his computer, it’s that past experience has taught him that if it has a screen, it will end up cracked. 

“You’re just jealous --”

“Jealous?” Zayn’s voice gets high like it does when he’s lying. “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because I got a better grade than you!”

“It was a pity A,” Zayn says.

Niall makes it into the room in time to see Liam cross his arms over his chest. “Um, it was a B and it wasn’t pity, she said it was because I showed enthusiasm for the subject.”

“Can we please stop insulting the greatest piece of art in our apartment?” Niall asks. Someone’s set a beer on the table; he assumes it’s for him. 

Zayn scoffs. “Never should’ve made you take sculpting with me.”

“Zayn,” Niall says, reaching for one of the heavy, lopsided metal X’s Liam had made as part of a tabletop tic tac toe board, “insulting is not part of a helpful critique. Art isn’t about appearance, it’s about emotions.”

It’s something Zayn’s said to all of them, over and over again, any time they’d seen any of his work. Niall realizes they won’t have to go to one of his weird, boring gallery things this year, with all the tiny cheese trays and people whispering bullshit sentences like “the red sounds so much louder than everything else, I feel like I can’t concentrate around it.” Harry used to love going to those. Niall and Louis and Liam made a game of who could make up the dumbest shit to say. It’s weird to think that he’ll miss it this year, considering how they dreaded going every semester.

“You’re the worst,” Zayn says, mouth twitching like he’s considering smiling. He spins towards Liam. “You’re the second worst. And I’m X this time.”

He snatches the X out of Niall’s hand, startling him. “I”m O, then!” Niall reaches for one of the Os at the corner.

“I don’t _want_ to be Gamemaker,” Liam says, his lip pouting out.

Zayn shrugs. “Should’ve thought of that faster, bro,” he says, and it sounds cold but he’s smiling, his tongue curled behind his teeth, and not even Liam can stay strong in the face of that.

“Fine.” Liam clears the rest of the pieces off the board, setting them in two piles on either side to signal the start of the elaborate game they’ve developed over the years. Ever since Liam lugged his dumb sculpture project home sophmore year. 

Niall and Zayn take their places, their beers in front of them. Liam looks at each of them seriously. “On the count of three.”

They’re on round two by the time Harry and Louis show up, Liam yelling “PAUSE!” before he opens the door. Harry stops short, taking in Niall on the futon and Zayn standing on one foot, holding one of his X’s to his chest, mouth open because he’d been mid-word when Liam shouted.

“ARE WE PLAYING?” Harry’s face is one giant grin, his mouth so wide Niall half expects an insect to fly right into it. “I’M X.”

“O!” Louis and Liam say at the same time.

Liam frowns. “Damn it.”

They do rocks paper scissors until Liam makes another sad face and Louis cheers, pinching Liam’s nipple and taking his rightful place on the futon. “Alright, Horan, tell me where we’re at.”

“No cheating!” Liam yells from the kitchen. There are loud footsteps, like he’s running back with everyone’s beers. “No cheating, Os.”

“We weren’t!” Louis argues. Niall, still paused, stays silent. Liam raises his eyebrow, like he’s unsure if Niall’s actually following the rules. 

Across the room Zayn starts to wobble on his one foot. Louis’s eyes get wide. So do Harry’s, but with infinitely more concern. If he falls, they’re not going to get the point. 

Liam, bless him, takes his sweet time setting all the beers up. Niall can see the way Zayn’s fingers tense around his X like he’s struggling not to flip Liam off.

Eventually Liam says, “UNPAUSE,” and Zayn lets out a whoosh of his breath, picking up exactly where he’d left off with, “--range, Cardinal, uh…Illini.”

Liam makes a loud buzzer noise. Niall throws both hands in the air. “That was the first one you said!” 

“These idiots came in and distracted me!”

“Heyyyy.” Harry elbows Zayn, who’s at least allowed to put his foot down on the floor again. 

“Os, would you like to steal or would you prefer the physical challenge?” Liam asks, his voice sounding hilariously serious. He hates being the Gamemaker, but they always try to sucker him into it because he’s the best at it. Plus he gets drunk the fastest and it’s fucking hilarious.

“Phys--” Louis starts, but Niall claps his hand over his mouth and shouts, “STEAL.”

He drags Louis to his feet, hands him and O, and shoots him a look that says _keep quiet_ while they both stand on one foot and Niall says, “Midshipmen. Wolfpack. Green Wave. Fighting Sioux. Crimson.”

“And the O’s have it!” Liam says, gesturing for Niall to place one of his letters on the board. 

Harry dutifully starts chugging his beer while Zayn protests. “Crimson doesn’t count!”

“It does too!” Niall says, shaking his head at the space Louis is pointing to. They need better board position than that, but they’ll have to do a physical challenge if they go for a corner spot, and it’s not worth it just yet. 

“Well it _shouldn’t_.”

Louis looks to Liam. “Ruling?”

“It’s a real team. It counts. Drink.”

Zayn shoots Liam a wounded look before tipping his head back and polishing off his beer. 

“Replay!” Louis says.

Liam sighs. “It counts. Drink.”

Zayn laughs quietly as he reaches for the fresh beer waiting for him on the table.

“PAUSE ROUND FOUR,” Liam shouts hours later, after most of the bloodshed is over and they’re halfheartedly playing. Their physical challenges have all become things that can be done without moving more than two feet. Niall thinks Harry still might be holding his plank position from the last round.

“Stop doing that, weirdo.” Niall flicks a beer tab at him. “You guys won.”

Zayn looks up from his phone. “Yeah we did. Suck it, losers!”

“It was a draw,” Louis says, rolling one of the Os across the floor. “We won round two.”

“Yeah, but Zayn won round one, so…”

“Shhh,” Louis reaches towards Niall’s face, patting his arm when he realizes he’s too far away to reach, “we don’t talk about that. Just like we don’t talk about that metal chicken Zayn made to go with Liam’s tic tac toe.”

Zayn makes an offended sound. “It wasn’t a chicken, you jerk.” 

“If it walks like a chicken,” Harry says. 

“And clucks like a chicken,” Louis finishes. 

“It wasn’t a fucking chicken!” Zayn shrieks. His voice gets so high they all burst out laughing. Niall thinks it might be the first time this year he’s seen Zayn genuinely laughing when giving Louis the finger.

“I can’t believe you didn’t do better than Liam in that class, Z,” Niall says. He tips his head over the arm of the couch so he can see Zayn flip him off, too. 

Louis snorts. “RIght? Interpretive chicken seems like something that would’ve definitely deserved an A.”

“Especially after how you explained it was a statement on -- what was it?”

“Classism,” Harry tells Niall helpfully, his mouth pinched like he’s trying his hardest not to laugh. 

“God, Niall.” Louis pretends to sound disappointed. “It’s like you’ve completely forgotten the collection was called _Animal Farm_.”

Harry loses it then, laughing into his elbow. Everyone else cracks up, too. Zayn folds his arms over his chest, getting that look on his face like the tide is turning and he’s not going to appreciate all their teasing much longer.

“Guys,” Liam whines, like he hasn’t been paying attention to anything that’s been happening around him, “we paused because we’re supposed to be planning. This is a planning amendmum.”

“Addendum,” Harry and Zayn say. They both drink when Liam points at them.

The framework of the game disappears around the same time Liam decides that it’s vitally important to take notes on their Kegs and Eggs planning. 

“Did you really just write down eggs?” Louis asks, craning his neck to read. “It’s in the title, Liam.”

“We bought eggs!” Niall says. “Put a checkmark.”

“Did you get a keg?” Zayn asks. He doesn’t look up from his phone.

“Yes!” Liam very carefully puts a check on his list. “I have to pick it up tomorrow afternoon.”

“Then we’re good.” Zayn sets his phone down again. “Planning over! Harry, go get me another beer.”

“Counteroffer,” Harry says, “you get your own beer, and you you get _me_ another beer.”

Zayn stares blankly as Harry smiles his sweetest smile, all dimples and big eyes. “That doesn’t work on me,” he says, only looking away when his phone vibrates.

Harry sighs, pushing to his feet. “Fine, but here, listen to this song I think we should add to our playlist.”

“Oh, I’ve got some new stuff, too,” Zayn says, talking over the song Harry’s started playing his phone. “We were listening to it at the studio last week, Shah thought it’d be great for an all-night thing.”

“Did he now?” Louis asks archly. Zayn bristles at the tone of his voice.

“Yes, that’s why I said it.”

“Was that-- ow, what the fuck, Horan?” Louis glares when Niall kicks him in the side.

“Sorry, leg cramped. Harry, what the fuck is this song, are we _trying_ to make people stay away?”

“What?” Harry’s voice is muffled, like he’s gone on a snack-finding mission. The odds he remembers to bring back Zayn’s beer are very low. “Do you like it?”

“It sounds like a cat playing the organ.”

“That’s -- yes!” Liam grins. “I couldn’t figure out what it reminded me of.”

“You suck.” Harry drops a unopened bag of Doritos on Niall’s head. “I’m never sending any of you any music again.”

“Can’t we just stick to normal music?” Louis asks, sounding annoyed.

“What’s normal, Lou?”

He rolls his eyes at Zayn. “Our regular playlist, I meant. Don’t get all weird about it.”

“I wasn’t getting -- never mind.” Zayn sighs and checks his phone again. “Just keep playing the same old shit, who fucking cares,” he mutters.

The room goes quiet for a minute. Niall looks at the clock. It’s only 9. It feels so much later; feels like they’ve been here forever. Feels like this whole week’s been forever. He opens the Doritos. Joke’s on Harry for abandoning them over here.

“Weren’t those supposed to be for tomorrow?” Liam asks, eyes narrowed. 

He shakes his head even though they probably were.

“It’s Kegs and Eggs,” Louis reaches for some chips, “not fucking Burritos and Doritos.”

Niall snorts. 

“Mojitos and Doritos,” Zayn says. 

“What?” Louis asks sharply.

“Because one’s a drink? Like kegs?” He rolls his eyes when Louis just looks at him. “Whatever.”

“We could have mojitos,” Harry says brightly. It sounds a bit strained, though. “Remember last year, when we made waffles? Only, wait, I don’t think any of you came, because it was at Taylor’s, and she had those really good chocolate chips from like, Belgium. No, wait, it wasn’t last year, it was --”

“ANYWAY,” Louis says, “there’s no mint to make mojitos so who the fuck cares.”

“We could get mint,” Liam offers. At some point he must’ve gotten bored, because he’s got a pyramid of beer cans half-constructed next to him. “And whatever else goes in mojitos.”

“It’s okay.” Harry shrugs. “I don’t really like them? Plus Niall’s already eating the Doritos. Guess it’s just regular eggs.”

“Regular eggs. Reg eggs,” Liam says, laughing to himself.

“Did you just write that down?” Harry leans over. Zayn starts whistling Bob Marley. “Liam, this list already had eggs on it.”

“Jesus Christ.” Louis pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Hangover setting in already?” Zayn asks, just as Harry yanks the notebook out of Liam’s hands and says, “I’m in charge now. Question: does anyone remember if we bought eggs?”

Niall bursts out laughing.

“Ha ha,” Louis says, flipping Zayn off.

“Who all’s coming?” Harry asks, trying to regain control of the room. Or, gain it. Niall supposes he never really had it in the first place. “Us five, right? Right, obviously.”

“Harry,” Louis warns.

“What? Us five are coming. And Sophia. And…” There’s a pause long enough that they all know Harry’s trying to remember who came last year, other than Eleanor and a bunch of her and Sophia’s friends they don’t see anymore. Niall bites his thumbnail and tries to monitor Louis out of the corner of his eye. His face looks like it’s set in stone. “Oh, Perrie, obviously. She’s coming, right?”

Zayn’s head moves in a way that could technically be considered a nod. Niall wonders if they’ve resolved their liking-people’s-selfies drama; he hadn’t thought to ask Zayn how that was going earlier.

“Are they all coming?” Liam asks. “Or just her?”

Zayn scratches his eye, mumbling something Niall can’t make out.

“Jade said they were,” Niall says. “We were talking about it in lab the other day.”

“When she was rowing your sorry ass around in a boat?” Louis asks, eyebrow raised. It comes out meaner than Niall knows he means it.

“She is probably stronger than I am,” Niall admits. They’d split the rowing duties.

“Andy said he and Maz might stop by,” Liam says. “Depends on their work schedules and stuff. But maybe at some point. Probably not.”

“Yeah, Selena said Justin’s throwing a party but she might stop by?” Niall shrugs. “Same sort of thing. Are Calvin and everyone coming?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t tell them about it yet,” Louis says. “We’ll see.”

There’s a pause, all of them staring at each other, before Louis asks, “Is Naughty Boy coming?” with barely concealed disdain.

Zayn bites his lip. “Why would he want to when you’ve been such a dick to him?”

“You’ve been a dick to me, and I still want you to come.” 

“For fuck’s sake, no wonder --” Zayn starts, rolling his eyes up towards the ceiling. The rest of whatever he says is too low for Niall to hear. 

Louis must catch it, though, because he rocks forward, shouting, “EXCUSE ME?”

Harry’s eyes are wide as saucers. Niall wonders if he heard what Zayn said or if he’s just reacting to Louis.

“You’re excused,” Zayn says flatly.

Louis’s presses his lips into a thin line, his hands balled into fists at his side. “Can you stop taking your miserable life out on me for five fucking seconds?”

“I’m miserable?” Zayn laughs. 

“All the fucking time!”

“How would you know? Are you ever sober enough to tell?”

“How would _you_ know? You’re the one who’s never fucking around. Out at _the studio_ or apologizing to your girlfriend or fucking going camping for shits and giggles!”

“Oh, excuse me for trying to take care of my fucking self for once! I didn’t realize I needed your permission to live my own life.”

Niall doesn’t know how Louis and Zayn both got to be standing. He feels frozen, the same way he used to when his parents would argue, back when he was little and they were still together. Which is stupid, but lately Zayn and Louis are constantly fighting the way his mom and dad had.

“You DON’T,” Louis shouts. Zayn, barely a foot away from his face, doesn’t even flinch. Niall does. Across the room, he can see Harry flinching, too. “But it’d be nice if you could stop boxing out Shahid’s fucking apartment and remember your real friends!”

“At least he called me back this summer when I was freaking the fuck out about changing my major!”

“Sorry,” Louis says, “but I was a little busy breaking up with my girlfriend!”

Zayn opens his mouth to say something but Liam jumps in first. “Alright, let’s not --”

He stops the second Zayn scoffs. “You’re going to come to his defense again? Of course. Did he even talk to you when Sophia broke up with you last spring?”

Liam’s face falls, but only for half a second. 

“Fuck you,” Louis says.

Zayn ignores him. “I don’t know why you’re so far up his ass.”

“I think maybe we should all take a deep breath.”

“Fuck’s sake, Harold,” Louis breathes out.

Zayn’s eyebrows shoot all the way up to his hairline. “Really, Harry? Now you want to get in on this?”

Harry takes a step back. Zayn looks from him to Louis to Liam. He doesn’t look at Niall. Niall doesn’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing. He holds his breath.

“You know what, whatever, I don’t need this,” Zayn shakes his head. “Fuck you guys.”

When he storms out of the room, they all watch him go. 

“Fuck him,” Louis says. 

“Louis.” Harry’s admonishment sounds halfhearted. 

The slamming door is still ringing in Niall’s ears. He blinks like that’ll clear it. He looks around, expecting to see physical damage, evidence of the tornado that just swept through, but the room looks the same. Even Liam’s beeramid is still intact.

“I think...” Liam touches his fingers to his lips. He looks shellshocked. They all do. “It’s probably best to give him space.”

“Who the fuck knows,” Niall says. “Let’s go get drunk.”

**

They don’t talk about it.

Louis heads directly to the bar and buys them all around of shots. For once, Harry doesn’t ask what it is, just knocks it back and gestures to the bartender that he wants to get the next round. 

Niall can’t stop hearing the sound of the slamming door. Can’t stop remembering the look on Zayn’s face when he’d whirled on Liam. On Harry.

Niall leans on the edge of the bar, his hand crooked. The third round’s on him. Liam’s probably right, he thinks. Zayn probably just needs time.

**

They split up to go home, Liam and Niall jumping in one car, Louis and Harry in another. 

“Home, Louis,” Niall says. Harry doesn’t look steady enough for a second location. For once, Louis nods.

Niall’s in the middle of brushing his teeth when he hears Liam say, “Wait, what? Robbed?”

“WHAT?” Niall yells, toothpaste splattering onto the mirror, the countertop. Liam stops in the doorway, switching his phone to speaker. 

“Calm down, Harry, Jesus,” Louis is saying, “I think -- look, your laptop’s right there.”

“Oh,” Harry says. 

“Sorry, Li.” Louis sounds exhausted, the kind that reaches all the way down to your bones. 

“It’s fine,” Liam says, his eyebrows knitted together. “Are you sure? I can…” 

Liam’s already stripped to his boxers; Niall doesn’t know what he’s planning on doing other than passing out. That’s all Niall feels capable of right now.

“Shut up,” Louis says, “it’s fine. It’s probably just the TV. We’ll… I don’t know, deal with it in the morning.” 

“Okay,” Liam says carefully. “Sure.” 

Once Louis has hung up he says, “Zayn’s… Some of his stuff’s gone. The TV, like. Dumb stuff. Louis thinks he hid it in his room, I guess? I don’t know. Harry panicked. I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Niall says. He doesn’t know what else to say.

**

 _It wasn’t just the tv_ Harry’s text wakes up Niall. He looks at the clock. 2 AM. 

“Ni?” he hears from across the apartment. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m awake.”

By the time he gets to the living room, Liam’s already got Harry and Louis on speaker. “Let’s… did you try calling him?”

“Oh shit, great idea, Liam!”

“Louis.” Niall frowns at the phone. “Don’t be a dick.”

“He won’t answer,” Harry says. “We both tried.”

“I did too,” Liam says. 

Niall checks his phone. His _r u ok?_ is still unanswered. He feels too drunk to deal with this. 

“Has anyone tried Perrie?” Louis asks. 

“Yeah,” Niall says. That one’s unanswered, too. It’s late, he reasons. Maybe they’re both asleep. “Everything’s gone?” he asks again, just to be sure. 

“Mostly,” Harry says. 

“Fucking shithead,” Louis says. “Drama queen. Dumbass melo…” His voice fades out, replaced by loud stomping. 

“He’s probably with Perrie,” Liam says reasonably. “That’s where he usually goes, right?”

Niall nods. He knows Zayn hangs out at Naughty Boy’s a ton, but he doesn’t think he’d actually drag all his stuff there. Doesn’t know where his stuff would go in that small apartment. Or how it would even get there. Zayn doesn’t have a car, doesn’t even have a fucking license, keeps talking shit about how some day he’s going to move to a city where he doesn’t need one. 

“Sorry for waking you guys up,” Harry says. 

“No,” Liam says, at the same time Niall says, “Come on, Harry.”

“We can come over?” Liam offers. “Sleep on the floor.” 

“The futon’s still there, right?” Niall asks, the joke sticking in his throat. 

Harry laughs hollowly. “Yeah, it’s here.” 

“Didn’t take this piece of shit but he took the fucking TV.” Louis is back. “I swear if i see him, I’m going to deck him.” 

No one tells him not too. Niall wonders if everything’ll somehow be alright in the morning.

**

It’s not. 

They still haven’t heard from him. “Like, at all,” Harry says while and Niall nurse coffees in the shop on campus. Harry’s still got his sunglasses on even though they’re inside. He’s doing better than Louis, who apparently hadn’t even gotten up for class. 

Niall wishes he’d gotten a croissant or something when he ordered. The counter is so far away.

“I don’t even know Naughty Boy’s last name,” Harry says quietly, “to like, see if he’s on Facebook.”

“Khan,” Niall says absentmindedly. He checks his texts again. Still nothing. 

“Did Jade --”

“She wasn’t in class. I’ll call her,” he says, “just like… not yet. It’s early.” 

“Niall.” 

He looks at the clock. It’s almost noon. It seems like it should be earlier. He still feels like shit. Logically it’s not just from the hangover, he knows, but it feels like it’s all hangover. 

“Fine.” 

It only takes her a couple rings to answer. 

“Hey,” Niall says, “missed you earlier.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when your house fills up with garbage bags of clothes at midnight.” 

“Oh.” Niall lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. It feels like he’s been holding it since last night. He nods at Harry, who drops his head onto the table.

“It’s a lot of fucking garbage, Niall.” Jade doesn’t sound pleased. Niall knows she and the rest of Perrie’s roommates are still pissed about last year, that they’ve never really come back around on Zayn. 

“Can I talk to him?” 

“Probably not, he won’t talk to anybody. Sounds pissed at you.”

“Yeah, well, we’re pissed at him, too,” Niall says, surprised by how much he means it. “Tell him to fucking call someone or leave a note next time, yeah?” 

“I’m not being your go-between on this,” Jade says. “So don’t start passing me notes to pass to him in class.” 

She hangs up before Niall can promise not to. 

“Well?” Harry asks, like he hadn’t just been pressed up against Niall to listen in. 

_Z’s @ Perries_ Niall texts the group. He realizes, belatedly, that Zayn’ll get the text, too. He wonders if he should’ve made a new group. Oh well. Too late now.

“Well what? He dragged all his shit over there in the middle of the night. Obviously they’re not happy. He’s not happy.”

Harry sighs. “That makes none of us, then.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Harry said to call him at seven and he’ll wake up.” Liam frowns when he walks into the room, “And he stressed that he wanted us to call and not to go upstairs and dump anything on his head.”

Niall laughs as Liam collapses on their futon, taking another beer from Sophia when she comes out from the kitchen. The Kegs and Eggs are technically still happening in the barest, shittiest form, but things are such a fucking mess that Niall doesn’t know why Liam is so surprised it’s not the same as usual. 

It’s only been a day, but Niall would have thought Zayn would’ve contacted at least one of them by now. Oh fucking well. He’s probably got them all on DND. 

“Liam,” Niall pokes at Liam’s leg with his foot from where he’s sprawled on the floor, “when was the last time Harry didn’t pass out before anyone and we had to wake his ass up? Sophomore year, probably.”

“Think he prefers the eggs, Li." Sophia sets the cup in front of Liam on the floor and settles in his lap, Niall snorting hard at Liam’s comically loud sigh. 

“Louis isn’t even _here_ yet, and everyone else flaked, and Harry’s passed out, and --” Liam buries his face in Sophia’s hair. “I got out the extra sleeping bag and everything.”

“And who was gonna end up rolling the Icy Hot on his back after he sleeps on the floor?" Niall had done it last spring when Harry’d passed out drunk on their floor, and Harry whined for a solid day about how he did it too hard. That Niall made it _worse_. Limped around comically until he’d ended up hooking up with Nadine at the party the next night, where he was suddenly fine. From what Zayn had seemed to imply anyway, Harry was in some sort of weird position without a problem when he’d walked in on them. Although Zayn didn’t say much, just laughed and pointed at Harry until they ended up fist bumping while Niall waited for Harry to finish proofing his paper because MLA format is a little bitch. Niall had figured the next time Zayn boxed out Louis’s piece of shit car with him he’d spill and then Louis would tell everyone.

It wasn’t even that long ago. 

“At this point, I’d do anything for things to be normal again." Liam’s actually pouting now, and Niall gets it, he does. But at the same time, there’s no point in dwelling over shit when it doesn’t seem like it’s changing anytime soon, shitty as it is. Even though Louis hasn’t shown up yet because he’s trying to ditch Calvin at some bar and Zayn is doing whatever the fuck, the silence settles in over them. Niall reaches over and gathers up the sleeping bag Liam had laid out for Harry, rolling it up under his head. He remembers when he and Liam had hosted Kegs and Eggs last year, how they barely had enough room for everyone, El and Zayn and Perrie and everyone else. And now it’s just like any other night, he and Liam and Soph. Harry’s probably drooling all over his pillow upstairs and Niall _just_ did laundry before he moved in, instead of annoying everyone by hooking up with Kendall in their sleeping bag before anyone had even gotten past buzzed like last year. 

Sophia makes a soft sound, and when Niall looks up she’s petting at Liam’s hair like she does sometimes.

“This year was supposed to be a little different,” she says, always the diplomat. Maybe she should change her major, go into politics.

“Gonna go out on a high note, is what we kept saying." Liam sounds like he’s speaking at a funeral. Niall needs about eight more beers to deal with this. 

“Soph,” Niall sits up, holding up a finger while he chugs down his full cup. They have a whole fucking keg. Liam had hesitated, thought about cancelling it, they both had, but still got it anyway. Niall’s pretty sure that Liam thinks Zayn’s about to come back any second and pretend like nothing ever happened.

“Yeah?" Sophia slides off of Liam’s lap, settling on the floor and tipping her head against Liam’s knee. She looks tired, now that Niall’s paying attention. And maybe not just because she got fucked over for one of her last classes she needed, some bullshit eight AM Monday Wednesday Friday. 

“So did you fill El in at all?" Niall’s been wondering, is all. El has a class in the same building as him Tuesday and Thursday in the afternoon, and he’s been working up the nerve to do more than just nod at her. Which is really weird seeing as how the last time he saw her was at the party Louis had since everyone was still in town, while his mom and Dan were on their honeymoon and he’d ended the night holding her hair while she puked because Liam and Sophia were fucking upstairs and Louis was blacked out in the bathtub already. He should probably be able to at least say hello. 

“Um,” Sophia’s already blushing, which is never a good sign. “I gave her a brief version of events this afternoon.”

“Define brief." Niall knows how those two are, knows that the odds are pretty good El’s gotten more than a brief overview of all the shit they’ve been living the last couple days. Especially the Zayn stuff; El and Zayn were always tight.

“Eleanor and Soph are…” Liam speaks up, pushing his hat back on his head as he shifts to rest his cup on his leg and pet at Sophia’s hair.

“It’s been harder, with everything." Sophia bites her lip, looking so sad for a moment that Niall sits up a little. “I was just thinking that if I told her how Louis was doing, and the stuff with Zayn, she’d…”

“It’ll blow over.” Liam shoots Niall a look, and Niall knows he’s in for it later. Like he’s supposed to know who else is having a fight. He needs a fucking chart at this point. 

“It will, I’m sure." Niall nods. “Remember the time you and her got in that whole drama over what was it, that group project? That was pretty shitty for everyone, and now it’s…”

Niall trails off, realizing the deep grave he’s digging for himself.

“It uh, it _was_ fine, and now this is...I’ll shut the fuck up now.”

It’s quiet for a moment, Niall already wondering if he could just up and move into Zayn’s room with Louis and Harry when Sophia laughs softly. 

“Bro,” Liam had a weird tone to his voice, one Niall’s not sure he’s heard before, but he’s pretty sure it has to do with...well, it could be a lot of things at this point. He knows that Harry and Louis were arguing over what to turn Zayn’s room into anyway in the new group text Louis started, it’d really be a _help_ for them and their friendship if he moved right in. 

“Niall, it’s alright,” Sophia’s sitting up now, stretching over to pat at Niall’s shin. She’s always the one most mindful of his knee. Makes him wonder, for an embarrassing second, if he’s about to tear up just at the thought of it. What kind of beer did Liam even buy?

“Are you and El really that bad though?" Niall tries to think of checking Insta without one of their annoying posts of the two of them laughing together over salad or whatever. He and Sophia had a whole long talk one morning right after they were all back and the reality of the breakup was really settling in, while Liam was still sleeping and Sophia was feeling generous and made them both pancakes. How she was worried, but that she thought it was going to be okay. _Sometimes things end, but that doesn’t mean everything else has to,_ she’d said at the time, and it made sense even though he’d made fun of her for it. Maybe not in practice so much, but it’s nice to think about.

“Not that bad,” Sophia shakes her head at Liam when he starts to speak up, “Liam, I was just upset.”

“Yeah, well, seeing you upset sucks." Liam pushes his hat off his head, dropping it on Sophia’s instead, the brim to the side. It looks ridiculous.

“That’s sweet,” Sophia grins, leaning forward to plant a kiss right on Liam’s knee, her hand still steady on Niall’s shin. For not the first time in the past couple of years, Niall wonders if this shit is weird and they’re all three of them a couple of shots away from a really not so chill night. Or rather, a chill night followed by a not so chill rest of forever.

“That’s good,” Niall can hear how loud he’s talking, “if it’s not that bad.”

“Yeah, it’s just that Eleanor is doing her best to like, move on and concentrate and not get pulled back into things with Louis." Sophia sounds like she’s reciting something she’s heard more than once, and from the way Liam snorts derisively that seems even more likely.

“Does she want to…” Niall trails off. It might solve a lot of problems. Not the Zayn stuff, that’s on all of them, but if Louis was a little less off the rails, the rest might not seem so bad. 

“I’m not saying a word,” Sophia toys with the brim of Liam’s hat, “but no.”

“That sounds like a word to me, babe." Liam finishes off his beer with a loud burp.

“Gross." Sophia elbows Liam’s shin before dropping his hat on top of Niall’s foot. “Don’t be gross.”

“How is a natural thing my body does grosser than putting something that goes on my _head_ on Niall’s disgusting foot?" Liam groans, leaning forward and picking it up, holding it out from himself like Niall has some sort of toe fungus. 

“If my feet are disgusting, isn’t that a natural thing _my_ body is doing, Payno?" Niall rolls and lifts his leg over Sophia, trying to shove it in Liam’s face. “Smell how natural it is.”

“Get your mutant foot fucking off me!” Liam faceplants on the futon in his effort to get away, Niall laughing so hard his stomach hurts. He takes advantage of the fact that Liam’s still scrambling to get on top of him, trying to step on his face while Sophia laughs. He’s almost got Liam where he wants him when Louis walks in, his eyes bright from pregaming and smelling like he was definitely at a McDonald’s in the last ten minutes.

“Well,” Louis says, lifting his arm for Sophia when she walks over to greet him, draping it over her shoulder, “since they’re occupied, Soph, what do you say? We give them a run for their money?”

“FUCK OFF, TOMLINSON,” is the last thing Niall hears Liam yell before his back hits the floor.

**

“I’m not going fucking outside,” Louis’s pretty wasted, Niall can tell even through his own haze of however many beers it’s been now. He eyes the joint in Louis’s hand, knows that he shouldn’t because it just fucks him over when he’s already drunk.

“It’s the rule." Sophia gone flushed, her hair piled on top of her head. She can’t stop laughing, keeps reaching for Liam’s leg, a little closer to his junk each time. Niall knows they’re about ten minutes away from sneaking upstairs to fuck, and then Louis can do whatever he wants. Niall doesn’t give a shit at this point.

“Just do it, Louis,” Liam shrugs, “don’t want our place smelling like weed and cologne like _someone’s_ apartment.”

“To be fair, Liam, it also smells like Harry’s candles,” Niall adds. He makes a mental note to remind Harry to get more of the cinnamon ones. He was out last time Niall was over. Had to deal with sandalwood and the ensuing migraine on top of everything else going on.

“It’s fucking raining, I’ll just do it out the window,” Louis’s up for some intense bargaining judging from how he turns to Liam. “Liam.”

“Louis." Liam pushes at Sophia’s hand on his leg before adjusting himself. Niall snorts.

“It’s bad enough that we’re a bunch of sad fucks with a wasted keg and Harry snoring upstairs,” Louis starts, Liam already sputtering.

“We are under a lot of pressure right now, and I just…” Liam trails off like he does when he gets wasted. Like his mouth can’t quite keep up.

“You just _what_?” Louis sounds tired, and Niall turns his head to assess how he looks while he continues. “Because I came here even though it was shaping up to be a good night out, just because I know that _you_ don’t like Calvin.”

“I dunno what,” Liam’s voice is slow, and Niall can see how Sophia’s back to rubbing at his leg and humming like she does sometimes when Liam gets his pout on. “And Calvin’s a fuckface.”

Louis sighs. Niall has to fight not to laugh, snags the rest of Louis’s beer instead while he’s distracted with Liam.

“I never said he wasn’t a fuckface, old man,” Louis gets up, wedging in between Liam and Sophia on the futon and wrapping his arms around Liam, who tries to squirm away. Niall starts laughing when Sophia does a slow slide off the end and crawls over to lean on Niall, her cheek hot against his shoulder.

“Old man? I’m younger than you are.” Liam’s voice is muffled from his position under Louis’s arm. 

“Yeah, but, I wouldn’t have to go out with a couple of assholes all the time if you hadn’t tapped out after what, like a week?" Louis looks over at Niall and Sophia, making that face Niall fucking hates. 

“It was _every night_.” Liam makes a face. “The semester barely started and I was already failing out!”

“Tell me, is it even _possible_ to fail a sociology class?”

“Especially if you were taking half of ‘em pass/fail, Liam, let’s be fair here." Niall groans when Sophia pinches his side hard at his helpful addition to the conversation at hand. “Ow, Soph, I’m just stating facts.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Sophia laughs. “Liam, baby, it’s fine.”

“It is fine, and Niall can’t act like he didn’t crap out on half those nights either." Liam’s slightly winded sounding since Louis’s suddenly got him in a headlock. “Right, Louis?”

“That is one hundred percent Liam, fucking OW." Louis half rolls off the futon when Liam gets him with a dick punch. “What did I ever do to you?”

“What did you ever not do to anyone?" Liam’s smiling now, his eyes probably still there even though Niall sure as shit can’t see any evidence that they exist at the moment. 

Niall clears his throat, laughing. “That’s a fair question.”

“All I do is…” Something in Louis’s face changes, quick enough that Niall feels like he sobers up slightly. It’s gone a second later, but it’s still weirdly quiet for a moment, the only sound in the room the loud as fuck house music Louis had put on as soon as Sophia told him Harry was sleeping upstairs.

“Lou…” Liam starts, Niall doing his best not to look at Sophia. To look at anything, really. He focuses on one of the metal Os that’s on the floor.

“Fuck off,” Louis laughs, no heat in his words. He rubs at his face. “Fuck, I need a cig.”

“We can break the rules once, I think.” Sophia reaches for the joint on the floor, where it had fallen out of Louis’s hand at some point. “Liam, babe, will you get the lighter?”

“Don’t know where it is even,” Liam stands up, “Niall, where did you put it?”

“Fuck, am I supposed to remember everything?" Niall groans, tipping his head back so he can’t see the grateful look on Louis’s face anymore.

“You usually do, bro." Liam laughs, standing up, “I’ll figure it out, maybe the kitchen?”

“Think it was on the counter." Sophia rubs at Niall’s neck as she calls after Liam. “Another beer?”

“Finally, someone’s talking sense." When Louis speaks, he sounds normal enough. “We’ve got some catching up to do if we’re gonna make it. And Harold’s gonna be on pancake duty, I’ll tell you that right now.”

“Good, because the one time you made some they fucking sucked." Niall kicks at Louis’s shin until he flips him off.

**

“This is the opposite of what I thought was gonna happen." Niall chugs his beer, feeling that weird in between hungover and drunk. He figures if he gets a good breakfast in and at least three more beers he’ll be good to go for tailgate in a couple hours. 

“Liam’s passed out and I’m about to join him, Ni, sorry.” Sophia finishes tying his apron, something covered in ruffles and polka dots that Liam made Niall and Harry help him pick out last Christmas for her. Spent an entire hellish afternoon in Anthro. “Harry and Lou will be down soon, I bet.”

“Louis went to go wake him up fifteen minutes ago,” Niall reaches for their one mixing bowl, another thing that used to belong to Sophia, “think it’s a lost cause.”

“Sorry buddy." Sophia doesn’t sound so sorry as she walks right out of the kitchen though, without another word. Fine. Niall will spit in her breakfast. Probably. His mouth is pretty fucking dry. If he can manage it, he’s gonna spit in all their breakfasts.

At least Soph laid out all the food, even opened the egg carton. Niall takes another long drink, surveying the counter. Louis always wants bacon but Liam prefers sausage, Harry hates his eggs over easy but Sophia only likes them scrambled. They all like pancakes, but Louis is a piece of shit who hates when you add stuff in. But Sophia got out the chocolate chips too, so fuck Louis. 

It’s like a fucking logic puzzle. Niall snorts to himself as he tries to figure out the way that will result in the least bitching. Harry’s always the best at this, can cook breakfast for fucking days and no one ever complains unless it comes with a side of “and I worked in a bakery during the summers in high school.” 

Harry really is the best at this. And he’d promised he’d handle it, last night, before his story all about how he had to stay up late finishing some monstrosity of a paper that Niall only feels slightly bad about not paying attention to what the subject was. He thinks maybe it was some sculptor. Or a poem. Or both. Either way, with all the shit trying to figure out where the fuck Zayn was he only had a few hours before he had to submit it. 

Niall’s up the stairs in his apron before he can think about it too much, going on autopilot because stairs can be fucking difficult after an entire night of shitty beer if he thinks about it too hard. It doesn’t hit him until he gets to the top that Harry’s not protesting loudly as Louis tortures him awake, or silent because Louis just passed out next to him. It’s quiet, the low rumble of their voices making Niall feel like he shouldn’t be listening.

“Maybe if you get some sleep,” Harry’s saying when Niall edges open his door, Harry spread out on his bed like how he always sleeps with Louis perched on the edge. Niall can tell from the red mark on Louis’s forehead that he was rubbing at it. 

“Yeah,” Louis says over his shoulder to Harry before smiling up at Niall. “Please tell me you’ve got bacon.”

“Not in an edible state,” Niall shifts his weight. “You were supposed to be waking Harry up.”

“Does it look like I’m asleep, dear Niall?" Harry rolls over on his side, propping himself up on one elbow. 

“You look like,” Niall swallows, “someone who’s not currently cooking as promised.”

“Ah,” Harry waves his hand about, looking far too well rested. “Semantics.”

“Don’t think that’s semantics, Harry.”

“It’s _something_ like that anyway, Niall." Harry sits up, swinging his legs mostly over Louis’s head, at least when Louis ducks a little. “Alright, I’ll come help, Louis here can take my place until breakfast. Yeah, Lou?”

“Yeah, why don’t you?" Niall takes in how easy Harry’s smiling at Louis, compared to the way he’s got his hand on Louis’s shoulder, looks like he’s got it in a tight hold.

“Bacon, Niall." Louis’s already spreading out and turning over, huffing out a laugh when Harry drapes a blanket over him. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Anytime, Son." Harry grins at Niall, turning until his back cracks so loudly Niall winces. “Fuck, I needed that.”

“C’mon,” Niall lowers his voice as they make it out in the hall, “Soph got out the chocolate chips.”

“Fuuuuuuuck, yes." Harry holds out his fist until Niall bumps it. “Hey, you got any Fireball? I wanna catch up fast before we cook anything.”

**

“Nialllll...Niall, watch watch watch." Harry has this way of speaking when he’s first getting buzzed, this weird mix of slow fast that’s almost like his own weird accent. Niall tries to make his brain catch up, blinking hard to clear his head.

“Alright, I’m paying attention." Niall looks up from the “prep work” Harry had given him. Slicing one banana. With a butter knife.

“Taught myself to do this." Harry flashes him a wide grin before pulling his hand out from behind his back and holding up one of his special organic eggs. His eyes are bright like he’s about to do something exceptionally stupid.

“You’re the best at that, Harry." Niall leans back in his chair. “Gold medal in egg holding.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’m not just gonna hold it, please." He palms the egg like he’s some fucking magician, rapping it once hard against the side of the bowl.

It seems like he does it too hard to Niall, especially after watching Harry do three shots in a row not ten minutes earlier. He really doesn’t want to eat egg shells, either. Maybe they can just hit up the diner instead to try and salvage this pitiful weekend. He’s about to say something when Harry arches his fingers back carefully, the egg breaking into the bowl. 

“Holy shit." Niall drops the knife on the table and stands, crowding up next to Harry. “When did you teach yourself that?”

“It was sort of an accident." Harry shrugs, his shoulder bumping against Niall’s. He reaches over for another egg and does it again, tossing the shell on the counter and shaking out his hands after in the weirdest attempt at jazz hands Niall’s ever seen.

“That’s a weird accident." Niall steps back to snag his beer from the table and take a long drink before Harry steals it from him to toss it back, sputtering a little when it gets all over his face.

“Down the wrong pipe,” Harry coughs hard, the kind of cough he usually ends up getting after the first game it rains that sticks around until like, March. Liam is always very concerned.

“Wasting my beer, Styles." Niall shakes his head and claps Harry on the back hard, Harry grinning through his coughing as he raises his arms over his head.

“Oh no, do you think we’ll run out?" Harry clears his throat and looks pointedly at the keg in the corner before turning back to the corner. “Anyway, was up late the other week finishing some reading and Lou came home. I made him some brownies.

“You know,” Harry turns, his eyes crinkling up as he tries to wink, “ _brownies_.”

“Harry, are you trying to tell me you made Louis a sort of…” Niall laughs when Harry tries to wink at him again, leaning against the counter, “edible arrangement?”

Harry’s cheek twitches like he’s trying not to laugh. “Fuck off. It was like, fuck...2 AM, I think? And he had to eat something because he has an early class on Tuesdays, and we kept forgetting to go shopping because the list was always in dispute so it was easier to not fight every day, and I found this brownie mix my mom had sent like, sophomore year that I’ve been carting around forever. It was mostly not expired." He looks at Niall like he’s expecting him to say something.

“Right,” Niall says after a moment of trying to process. A lot of things, really.

“Yeah.” Harry swallows, nodding. “And I wasn’t sure _how_ to like, add in the weed part because Zayn knows that shit and he was at Naughty Boy’s, so I ended up youtubing it on Louis’s iPad and then Louis made fun of me _for_ youtubing it so I made him sit in the other room. He yelled insults at me the entire time. Like, loud.

“But,” Harry points at Niall for some reason, “then the lady in the video did the thing with the egg! So I was like, I’m gonna do _that_ so I practiced until I got it right.”

“Interesting." Niall looks down at Harry’s hands, how the knuckles look a bit swollen. He probably went boxing again this week. “How many eggs did you waste then?”

“I mean, so none actually made it in the brownies, so they turned out weird and also I didn’t really _actually_ figure out the weed part after Louis smoked most of it while I was doing the egg thing, so they were just regular brownies. And Louis was passed out by then anyway. I put him to bed and ate them with a spoon while I finished my reading." 

Harry shrugs, screwing up his face. “So it was more of an attempt at an edible arrangement. _But_ ,” he’s pointing at Niall again, poking at his chest this time, “I learned this one handed thing, so I am calling it a win.”

Niall takes a long sip of his beer instead of answering Harry, surveying him over the rim of his cup. Harry, to his credit, is already mumbling something about making the eggs fluffier or whatever the fuck, his bare feet making shuffling sounds as he moves around the kitchen. 

“Alright,” Niall stops Harry when he’s reaching for another egg, “we got like two dozen at the store so we’ll be fine if you teach me.”

“Oh yeah?" Harry laughs as he presses an egg into Niall’s hand. “It’s a real marketable skill, gonna be good for your job prospects in a few months.”

“I’ll get a great internship for sure." Fuck, that reminds him, he has a meeting with his advisor about that next week. Before he can think too hard about that shit Harry’s already nudging the bowl away from Niall and putting one of the mostly empty cups in front of him. “That still has beer in it, what if I don’t fuck it up?”

“I’m not very good at math but I know that’s like, statistically impossible. Here,” Harry holds out his hand curled in a loose fist, “you knock it, and then you just like….it’s like if your hand had a back you’d be stretching it.”

“If my hand had a back, sure." Niall rolls his eyes and cracks the egg against the counter before holding it over the cup and trying to mimic Harry’s movements. 

It crushes in his fist immediately, slimy egg seeping between his fingers and into the cup. “Oh, fuck.”

Harry hands him a paper towel. “Well. That wasn’t so much stretching your back as it was...cracking it.”

He twists his torso as he says it, his back cracking loudly in the quiet kitchen. Niall groans, picking a piece of shell off of his palm.

“Here." Harry hands him another egg, this time curving his hand over Niall’s. “I’ll show you this way.”

“Guess I’m just too strong for my own good." Niall lets the weight of Harry’s hand push his down, rapping the egg against the counter before Harry flips their hands over, pointing.

“It’s best if it’s like, a straight line sort of? Helps it break easier I think." Harry’s breath fans out over Niall’s face, and he’s about to open his mouth to tell Harry he’s gotta brush more often when he gets the hit of warm cinnamon, Niall licking his lips when Harry turns their hands back over. He really wants a shot. 

“Hey, Harry." Niall looks down at their hands when Harry presses over Niall’s fingers, the movement finally starting to make sense. 

“Yeah?" Harry drops his hand, peering down into the cup. “Ah, see? Only a couple shells and a broken yolk. Why don’t you try again solo?”

“Sure. Going solo." Niall mostly gets it, this time. “I mean, I know Louis has been...however, but he’s okay? Upstairs, and while you were asleep earlier he said something like he’s messed up, and the stuff with….”

Niall trails off, can’t make himself finish.

“He’s,” Harry’s got his back to Niall now, pulling out a bottle of water from the fridge. He turns around slowly and screws off the cap even slower, looking lost in his thoughts for a moment. It’s such a very familiar Harry expression that it puts Niall at ease.

“He’s mostly okay I think? Things have been pretty fucked up." Harry shrugs before downing half the bottle, a stream of water dribbling down his chin. “Sometimes I think you have to like, let yourself feel things, you know? Let yourself be a little off. He’s just got a lot of reasons to be off, is all.”

“What poem did you read that in?" Niall grabs another egg for something to do, breaking it right into the bowl. “Fuck, sorry.”

“It’s okay. They’re gonna be scrambled anyway." Harry grabs a spoon and starts digging out the bits of shell. 

“That wasn’t a poem, by the way." Harry doesn’t look up as he scrapes the spoon against the side of the bowl. “That was a Styles original work.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean you’re taking another creative writing class and didn’t mention it yet. I don’t care the day of your spoken word performance or whatever, I’m busy already." Niall snags the Fireball from the table, swigging a shot right from the bottle.

“I’m not, but if it _was_ happening, you would 100% go." Harry laughs, starting to beat the eggs. “Can you…?" He nods at the bowl of pancake batter he’d already mixed up first that’s all lumpy now until Niall realizes what he’s asking, grabbing it and the other whisk that Liam fucked up in the disposal last year, testing it. It’s still mostly functional.

They stir in silence for a moment, Niall trying to match his movements to Harry’s.

“We’re all fucked up." Harry says it so quietly that Niall pauses to make sure he heard right.

“Such a positive outlook." Niall can feel himself turning red. “No hope left." His face is hot.

“None at all,” Harry’s frowning when Niall glances over, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Abandon all hope, ye who enter this group of friends.”

Niall waits for a moment, watching Harry put the pans on the stove.

“What poem is that from?” Niall laughs when Harry flips him off without turning around.

**

“I miss Anne,” Louis sinks lower into his chair as he and Niall watch Liam and Harry play what feels like the longest game of cornhole ever. “Anne had good food.”

“Harry made you literally your own pound of bacon." Niall leans back and helps himself to another beer and cookie. “He wove you a basket out of bacon. How could you be complaining about food right now?”

“It wasn’t _enough_ Niall." Louis groans, adjusting his sunglasses. “Plus everyone knows that mom food is automatically better.”

“Does Boo Bear miss his mom’s cooking?" Niall shoves the other half of his cookie in Louis’s mouth before Louis can give him shit for bringing up his nickname.

“Fuck off,” Louis says anyway, crumbs spraying everywhere. “Jay Tomlinson. Deakin. Yeah, Deakin.”

“You can do it, buddy." Niall laughs, tilting his head in time to see Harry nail Liam in the leg with a beanbag, Harry hopping around after.

“Whatever, she’s the best fucking cook in the world." Louis takes a long pull from the beer in his left hand. “Don’t even pretend like you don’t agree.”

“Don’t know, Lou." Niall raises his voice, “Karen Payne is also a good cook.”

“Karen Payne is the BEST COOK.” Liam yells automatically. “Harry, that was not on, what the fuck. I won fair and square.”

“That corner is totally on,” Harry’s past the point of drunk where he’s still good at cornhole, stumbling over and pointing at the board. “Louis, I need you to officiate here.”

“Harry loses.” Louis says automatically, a wide grin on his face. It’s the first time Niall’s seen him smile this whole tailgate, and they’re only an hour out from kick-off.

“You didn’t even _look_." Harry pouts. “This fucking sucks, you’re all against me.”

“Think it was just me against you, bro." Liam says from the cooler where he’s opening another beer. “And you were the one who asked Louis to officiate, which is never a good call.”

“Heyyyy,” Louis is still grinning. “I’m the most fair.”

“It’s just --” Harry sputters, his mouth closing in a straight line. Niall knows what he’s not saying; Zayn was always the unofficial cornhole ref since he never felt like putting the effort in to actually play.

“I was sitting right here, Harry." Niall points out, before Louis catches on. Before Liam does.

“You are biased against Liam, please,” Harry crosses his arms, spilling beer all over himself in the process. “Roommates stick together.”

“Excuse you,” Liam pauses, belching loudly, “dude, Harry, breakfast was so good. Anyway, you and Niall have been hanging out more lately anyway so. Plus, Louis is my best friend.”

Niall’s heard it before, Liam’s constantly shifting best friend power rankings. Louis must be winning this week. Probably down to the sympathy vote. And being a man down.

“Harry, I changed my mind, I think it looks on." Louis’s nursing the beer in his right hand now, Niall unable to stop himself from laughing at the look on Liam’s face. “Anyway, I’ve got next.”

“That dude from two cars over who gave us the cookies has next,” Liam points out, still a pout on his face.

“Yeah, well, he’s not here _now_ so." Louis stands up, pushing at Liam’s shoulder. “Soph, where the fuck were you?”

Niall looks over past Liam to see Sophia approaching, her hair up in some sort of complicated braid and eye black smeared over her cheeks. She’d disappeared hours ago, Niall wasn’t even sure they’d see her until after the game was over.

“I was just,” Sophia looks a little unsteady, giggling into Liam’s shoulder when he tackles her in a hug, “with some people.”

“Your braid looks nice,” Harry calls out from where he’s waiting for Louis. 

“Some people, huh,” Louis’s voice is quiet and terrible. Niall reaches for another beer even though he’s still got half of one left.

“Louis,” Liam’s voice is equally quiet, Sophia gone mute under his arm. “C’mon.”

There’s a brief moment where Niall meets Harry’s gaze across the cornhole game and even though they’re both wearing sunglasses, he’s pretty sure they are both about to make a run for it. But then Louis laughs, shaking his head like he’s embarrassed. It’s fucking weird.

“Maybe you can do Harry’s hair like that, would look really amazing and not at all stupid." Louis reaches down for a bean bag, tossing it lightly from one hand to the other. “Braid it around his stupid scarf.”

“Don’t get my hopes up, Lou." Harry calls out, grinning over at Niall and flashing a thumbs up to Sophia, who’s smiling again. “Sophia doesn’t want to be outshone. Outshined? One of those.”

“Outshoned." Liam nods like he’s conquered the English language. 

“Don’t think it’s outshoned,” Sophia starts to say when Liam jumps, taking big steps over to the tailgate where they’ve got Niall’s phone connected to the speakers, playing the playlist they’ve honed over the past three years. 

“Nialllllllllllllllllllllllll, it’s time.”

“Fuck fuck,” Niall pounds the rest of his beer while Liam starts the song over, ‘Shipping Up to Boston’ blasting out of the speakers. It always sounds a little distorted but Niall doesn’t care, squaring up against Liam as they work out the dance they came up with years ago. Liam’s got a huge grin on his face when he points, Niall taking over with what he remembers of the step dancing classes his mother forced him to take so he could learn his own culture or whatever. 

“I’ll see you guys after!” Sophia yells somewhere in the middle, Liam saluting her as he and Niall spin around. Her seats are with El and the other girls anyway, and if Louis is touchy it’s for the best. Plus Sophia usually needs to be blasted before she’ll tolerate their dance.

“You two don’t look like idiots at all,” Louis laughs when he sinks a shot, Niall watching while Liam tries to rub his ass on Niall’s hip in some sort of weird fucking dance move. 

“When did you get so nice?” Harry asks, pushing his sunglasses up on his head and rolling his eyes at Niall.

“Fuck youuuu,” Niall does a complicated spin and loses his balance at the end of the song, collapsing on the ground. The sky is spinning a bit and it takes a moment of Liam leaning over him before he realizes what song’s started up next, loud from the speakers.

“Change this shit,” Louis complains, Niall sitting up in time to see the frown on Harry’s face as ‘Jesse’s Girl’ gets into the chorus. “I always fucking hated this song.”

“Um,” Liam seems like he’s frozen, fumbling over Niall and making it harder for him to stand up. It was always the one part of tailgate Zayn would really get into, him and Harry bouncing around in their own special dance. 

“Jesus, Liam, just move or _stop the song_." Niall hisses, everything moving in slow motion when it’s suddenly quiet, just the sounds of all the tailgates around them. He looks up and sees Harry with Niall’s phone in his hand, had disconnected it from the speakers entirely.

“Sorry Niall, you had it locked." Harry shrugs, his thumb rubbing over the screen. He finally smiles. 

“It’s alright." Niall stands, brushing off the back of his shorts. “Louis’s right, it’s a shitty song.”

“We gotta clean up anyway,” Louis is already dragging one of the boards over to the back of Liam’s car. “C’mon Liam, do your best friend a favor and be fucking helpful.”

**

“Why do we always end up on the surface of the fucking sun?” Louis leans his shoulder against Liam. “Liam, I’m sweating my balls off.”

“Oh no, you’ll need those." Liam doesn’t look over, distracted by the band on the field. Niall doesn’t know why, since it’s always so fucking boring during halftime, but Liam always treats it like a magic eye.

“Harry better come back with water." Louis changes his track of complaining. “That shithead and his tiny ass bladder.”

“He told you he’d bring you some, c’mon." Niall ruffles Louis’s hair. “We’re up by fourteen, c’mon Lou. It’s a good game.”

“It’s a boring game since we are winning, more like." Louis makes a face when Liam pokes at his side. “What the fuck, Liam, are you --”

Niall looks up when Louis does to see what Liam’s poking him about; it’s Zayn, standing there in aviators with his hair up in some weird bun and wearing a hoodie Niall’s pretty sure he stole from Harry, but the sleeves are cut off now. He’s not smiling, but he’s standing there. Like nothing’s happened. 

“Zayn, bro,” Liam smiles tentatively, “hey.”

“Hey,” Zayn says, after a moment. “Sorry I’m late.”

“That’s….oh what the _fuck_ ,” Louis braces his hands on his knees like he’s preparing for something. “So you’re sorry….that you’re _late_.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said." Zayn has a weird edge to his voice, and he’s still standing there with his hand on Liam’s shoulder, who’s gone fully frozen.

“We’re winning,” Liam says weakly, Louis’s laugh cutting across the sounds of the crowd around them. Niall’s seen enough fights break up during games to know that no one gives a fuck how a bomb’s about to go off in their section.

“Yeah?” Zayn nods. “That’s good.”

“Look at Zayn,” Louis drawls, “showing support for once in his goddamn life.”

“Look at Louis,” Zayn fires back, Liam squirming under his grip, “being a dick, like always.”

“Guys,” Liam says half-heartedly, Niall wishing Harry was back so he could play peacemaker. Liam’s too hurt to try at it right now, too much in protect Louis mode. Protect Liam mode.

“Just was trying to come and…” Zayn’s shoulders drop. He must have been holding them straight. “I don’t know, I don’t even want to be here.”

“That’s nice,” Liam sounds pissed now, and before Niall can say anything he can almost feel Louis reel back at the sound of Liam’s hurt voice.

“Where would you rather be, somewhere with Shah, _sorry_ , Naughty Boy? Saw that selfie you guys posted last night, it must be so cool that your elementary school got iMacs now, get those good filters." Louis’s standing up now, he and Zayn with only Liam sitting down between them keeping them separate. 

“And where would you rather be, some shitty bar with your asshole crew?” Zayn laughs. “Drinking to forget your shitty lonely life?”

Niall sees Harry come up behind Zayn, his sunglasses on his head and his eyes wide. 

“Oh shit,” Harry says, but it’s like he’s not even there when Louis’s eyes narrow. Niall braces himself, knows he can’t stop him now.

“Tell me Zayn, it’s been what, a day? How many people other than Perrie have you managed to fuck?" 

It hangs in the air around them, and Niall finally stands up, swaying a little and glancing down at how Liam’s fully got his head in his hands. He can practically hear Harry breathing hard from behind Zayn.

“I’m --” Zayn shakes his shoulder when Niall reaches for it, putting up both his hands with his mouth twisted up weird. “I’m leaving. Fuck you, Louis." 

The way he says it is so normal, like maybe they’re in the middle of a FIFA tourney and Louis just won. Niall watches him as he steps back, bumping into Harry.

“See ya, Harry,” Zayn mutters, pausing a second before looking back at all of them. “Or not.”

“Yeah,” Louis laughs, but it sounds strangled and weird. Liam still hasn’t moved. 

“ _Zayn,_ ” Harry drops the bottles of water he was holding. “What about --”

“It’s nothing, seriously." Zayn shrugs. “Nothing. Right, Louis?”

“Oh, fuck you too." Louis turns and sits back down, leaving Niall and Harry the only ones standing as Zayn walks away. 

**

“Think we should go home tonight,” Harry’s swaying a bit on his feet on the sidewalk. “Don’t think --”

“I’m not fucking sleeping on a floor,” Louis’s been drinking steadily since everything, Niall not sure how much of this he’ll actually remember. “Want my own fucking bed.”

“I can’t drive,” Liam says stupidly from beside Niall. His eyes are red and puffy from where he’s been rubbing at them in what Niall knows is an effort not to cry. 

_Come to ours_ Niall texts Sophia, forcing himself to keep it coherent. _Zayn emergency_

“Soph is gonna meet us,” Niall knows she will even though she hasn’t replied, still off somewhere in one of the lots. “We can walk to --”

Their place is closer to the stadium, mostly walking distance, Louis and Harry all the way on the other side of campus. 

“Here,” Louis shoves his phone in Niall’s hands, “get walking, and get Harry and I an uber from yours.”

“You can sleep in my bed, Louis." Liam’s stumbling ahead, dragging his arm around Louis to make him keep up.

“Yeah, I’d love if you and Sophia would fuck right on top of me, that’d just make this shitty day even better." Louis looks back, “Niall, please.”

“I can do it,” Harry fumbles in his own pockets, his headscarf unraveling off his head. Niall pulls at it until it falls off in his hand, shoving it into Harry’s belt so he won’t lose it. 

“I got it, champ." Niall lags behind the others, feeling more sober since he’s the only one who abandoned all alcohol after Zayn left. He stares down at Louis’s phone, surprised that it’s his texts with Zayn that are what’s up on the screen when he unlocks it, even though it fucking sucks that he was right and Louis hadn’t changed his passcode from Eleanor’s birthday yet. 

“Don’t get run over!” Harry yells ahead, and Niall watches him try to save Liam and Louis from crossing a street that’s already closed to traffic. 

Niall glances back at the phone. He doesn’t want to look, but scrolls up a bit anyway. Louis always texts like he talks, long shit talking messages interspersed with even longer “do it or else” plan making ones. It’s not that surprising that Zayn was either monosyllabic or completely unresponsive, but it’s jarring to see how unbalanced it looks, Niall scrolling up long enough to see that it wasn’t always that way. Fuck.

The last text is from Louis. _Zayn. Are you really not fucking coming back?_

“NIALL, COME THE FUCK ON!” Louis yells suddenly and Niall feels like he’s been caught out at something, locking Louis’s phone entirely and jogging ahead. He’ll just have Harry get an uber from his phone when they get to their place. Or he’ll let Louis sleep in his bed. Something. He wonders how much of the keg they have left.

**

“Niall!!!”

Niall’s trying to finish up his reading for his afternoon’s class when he hears it, Harry’s voice calling out from across the quad. Niall’s not much for sitting around in nature or whatever to do his reading like Harry always goes on about, but he’s tired and the bench was free. 

“What’s up?” Niall looks up to see Harry jogging up, wearing what looks like three different flannels all layered together. “Interesting look.”

“What?” Harry looks confused for a moment, popping a piece of gum in his mouth and glancing down. “Oh. The one underneath was missing its sleeves. It was kind of cold this morning." He shrugs.

“Is that…” Niall realizes that one of the sleeves appears to be wrapped around Harry’s head. Right.

“Anyway,” Harry rolls his eyes, grinning before flopping himself down next to Niall. “I’ve got a bit of a break and I saw you, got a minute for some coffee or something?”

“Uh oh. Did something happen?" Niall had just seen Harry and Louis when they all had dinner two nights ago, and Louis had drunk dialed him last night and sounded relatively okay, but. Things can go bad pretty fast, nowadays.

“No. Well, nothing new." Harry makes a face. “I was just gonna get a smoothie and forgot my book, didn’t feel like drinking alone.”

“I see how it is." Niall stands anyway, shaking out his leg from where it feels stiff. He’s been sitting there for too long. “But sure, I’ll join you for your pity smoothie, which don’t think I didn’t notice how coffee turned to smoothie.”

“They have both, fucker." Harry starts walking, his thumb hooked in the strap of his bag over his shoulder. “What are you reading anyway?”

“It’s science Harry, you’d be bored." Niall flicks at Harry’s ear where there’s a piece of hair curling down over it. “Don’t wanna bore you.”

“Heyyy,” Harry glances over while they walk, “I took a science class, once.”

“Yes, I think we all remember the constant struggle of that semester." Niall had ended up nearly losing it by the end, Harry coming to him more than the others for “help” which was really just him asking Niall over and over again how he could stand to be so bored all the time. “Remember when you told me it was stupid that your biology textbook lacked a _plot_?”

“I just appreciate a good narrative, Niall.”

“I would think that the entire world is a pretty good narrative, _Harry_.”

“Yeah yeah." Harry holds open the door to the cafe, Niall ducking to pass under his arm. It’s surprisingly uncrowded, and Niall checks his phone to see how much time he has while he waits with his black coffee at the table for Harry’s smoothie to be done.

“What time is your next class?" Niall asks when Harry sits, licking some smoothie off of his thumb from where it’s dripping down the side of his cup.

“An hour. It’s,” Harry takes a deep breath. “So, maybe I wanna skip it.”

“Why? Thought you were all done with your science and math shit." Everything got easier for everyone once Harry was done with his prereqs. Well, it was less complaining anyway. Much more talk of whatever wretched shit Harry’s analyzing at the moment. 

“No no, it’s like...it’s my Bernini class? On the idealization of death?" Harry opens and closes his mouth a few times, and Niall waits patiently for him to finish, even to explain what those words all mean together. He doesn’t though, just looks stuck.

“Isn’t that…” Niall tries to remember. “Isn’t that the one you were losing your shit over when you saw it was offered last spring?”

“Yeah.” Harry frowns when he sticks his tongue out to find his straw before he takes a sip. He looks ridiculous. “It’s my uh...the class I have with Zayn?”

“Oh." Niall knew it was art something. “First time since the game?”

“Got it in one." Harry touches his finger to his nose. “I don’t know, it’s a small fucking class, like maybe there’s ten of us. I’m just dreading it.”

“Maybe he won’t go?” Niall shrugs. “Seems to be how things with him go, these days. Plus, maybe that doesn’t go with his new major, anyway.”

“Ha.” Harry smiles, briefly. “He’d gone to it last week, like the day before he left? And he had already switched to anthro then, so I think he’s just in it now.”

“I really don’t know, Harry,” Niall takes a drink of his coffee, feeling tense. It’s shitty and weird, but a part of him wishes that if Zayn was gonna dip, he’d just be gone. Clean break. He thinks it might be easier, especially with how miserable Harry looks at the moment. 

“I didn’t want to say anything to Louis, and it’ll probably be fine, like… _we’re_ not in a fight with Zayn, really. Are we? It sort of feels like we are. Or at least, he is." Harry shakes his head, reaching up and retying his head sleeve scarf thing.

“I….don’t know.” Niall thinks about it. “It’s been fucking awful. Think even if it’s not a fight now, it’s certainly not like we’re all made up. But if you have to talk to him, then do it though.”

Harry sighs. “I don’t know if I want to, _fuck_. My stomach hurts. This smoothie was a bad idea.”

“Puking on him would certainly be a statement. Hey,” Niall reaches out, squeezes at Harry’s shoulder. “It won’t be that bad. Just concentrate on like, the death. The ideal death. And the art.”

“That’s so nice, Niall." Harry’s grinning now. “It’s like you actually tried.”

“Yeah, don’t get used to it." Niall groans when he looks at his phone. “Fuck, I gotta go, I have to be across campus in ten.”

“Yeah, I gotta go too. Thanks." Harry hops up and holds out his fist for Niall to bump it. “I’m pretty swamped the rest of the week, and I was gonna take advantage of the bye to get some shit done Saturday.”

“Same." Niall adjusts his bag over his shoulder, finishing the rest of his coffee. “I need a break from a lot of shit.”

“Hit me up Sunday if you’re bored." Harry grabs both their cups, tossing them in the trash. “I’ll be around.”

“Okay." Niall nods, adding, “Good luck, Harry.”

Harry waves at him with an exaggerated frown before Niall turns, jogging so he won’t be late.

**

Niall’s phone buzzes in his pocket when he’s in the middle of setting the plates on the table, Sophia finishing up with dinner. 

“Should I light the candle? Give us a little mood lighting? It’s,” Niall takes a look, “when did we get a Christmas Cookies candle?" 

Sophia laughs, putting some tortillas in the microwave. “Liam’s mom gave that to him when we had dinner there last Sunday? He asked her to make him cookies, she thought it was the best joke ever.”

“I mean, it’s pretty good." Niall pulls out the lid, taking a sniff -- it’s definitely cookies. “Don’t think it’ll go with tacos, though." His phone buzzes again and he pulls it out, looking down at the screen.

 _Have to work late save me a plate_ Liam’s sent to the group text “THE BAT TEAM” he has with Niall and Sophia (Niall objects to the group name ever since Liam informed him one night that _Niall_ was the Robin), followed by what feels like every sadface and food emoji available.

“Liam’s gotta work late,” Niall grabs the plate he’d already set down. “So we better eat all the tacos so he won’t have any.”

“Niall,” Sophia warns, and he can see her already divvying up what she’s got on the counter into a Liam-sized portion. 

“What? He’ll stop on his way home anyway and get something, we both know this." Niall hands over the plate anyway when Sophia holds out her hand, watches her fill it up and cover it before setting it in the fridge on top of the beer Niall picked up for next week.

“I’ll tell him not to." Sophia pulls out her phone and taps out a message, Niall feeling his phone vibrate again a second later. “C’mon, if it’s gonna be just us you might as well light that candle Horan, show a girl a good time.”

“Only if we never tell Liam,” Niall winks when Sophia looks up, and she shoves him on her way to the table, setting everything out. 

“Oh no, Niall, how will I ever resist you?” Sophia deadpans, tugging on Niall’s sleeve. “The dress you’re wearing is so hot to me.”

“Hey,” Niall looks down at where his shirt is, admittedly, sort of long, catching him at mid-thigh over his sweats. “It looked shorter in the store.”

“Does it look short now?" Sophia asks, laughing as she hands him the jar of salsa to open. 

“Fuck you,” Niall pops the lid and hands it over. “I’ll wash it a few times, it’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, because that’s what happens to shirts when you wash them. They decrease only in length." Sophia takes a bite of her taco, chewing with a thoughtful look on her face before swallowing. “Wait, should we say grace?”

“What?” Niall nearly chokes. “Grace? Did you suddenly become Maura Horan?”

Sophia starts laughing hard. “That was _beautiful_ , Niall. Such a good Catholic boy.”

“Alright, I didn’t sign up for being insulted in my own home." Niall takes another big bite, speaking through his mouthful, “You can go at any time, Sophia.”

“Yeah, it must be so hard for you that I cooked you dinner.”

“I helped!”

“You did, you were a real champion when I showed up and the first thing you said to me was _Sophia, I’ll love you forever if you make me tacos_ and then pretended to limp into the kitchen." Sophia laughs, snagging Niall’s beer (he realizes, now, that he forgot to get her one) and taking a big drink.

“I was catching up on homework and shit all day _and_ I went to the store _and_ I think it’s gonna rain, so my knee is sore. It was a genuine limp." Niall avoids Sophia’s pointed look. “It was mostly genuine.”

He gets up from the table anyway, going to the fridge and grabbing himself a new beer and then an extra one, for the table. 

“Cheers, Niall." Sophia tips her bottle to meet his. “It was my turn to cook anyway, it’s cool.”

“The truth is out." Niall helps himself to another. “I thought it was your turn." The three of them have always taken turns cooking dinner on bye weeks during the season for Bye Day Night Dinner, but it always gets dicey for that first one when everyone’s memories are suddenly real fuzzy. 

“Yeah yeah." Sophia rolls her eyes. “So how are things, anyway?”

“Things like…." Niall trails off, because with Sophia it could be a lot of things. 

“Classes, I guess. How did your internship meeting go? Liam mentioned you were stressed about it." Sophia shrugs. “The other stuff that neither of us are mentioning right now.”

“Classes are fine, think I worked it out well enough that this is gonna be my last really shitty semester." Niall swallows. “The meeting is...I don’t know, I gotta fill out so much shit and it’s like nine different deadlines. But I at least feel like I’ve got a better grip on what I have to do, now?”

“Yeah,” Sophia makes a face, nodding. “El’s going for some fashion internship, she was telling me how insane the portfolio she has to put together is. Guess we have to like...be adults now.”

“Fuck being an adult." Niall reaches for the second beer before Sophia can. “Are things, ah, better now? With Eleanor?”

Sophia looks down. “Yeah, we like...after things were so bad last weekend I talked to her, we’re good now.”

“What did she say about it, after you told her?" Niall’s genuinely curious. It’s something he’s thought about, more than once in the past week, especially after he’d gotten a novel’s worth of texts from Harry after his class with Zayn, all about how Zayn didn’t say one word and Harry wanted to die the entire time, something about how it was ironic or not ironic or whatever. How he caved and talked to Louis about it. Which then led to Harry and Louis going out that night. 

Niall’d been dead to the world and didn’t answer his phone, so Liam was the one who ended up picking their asses up at 3 AM from two towns over and driving them home. It’s been days and neither of them remember how they even got there.

“She...I don’t know, Niall." Sophia smiles, looking weirdly sad. “I had floated the idea of her talking to Louis, just as a talk.”

“She’s the best at handling him,” Niall pushes away his plate; he’s not hungry anymore. “Her, and Liam. But Liam’s…”

“He’s not a nonbiased party at the moment." Sophia laughs softly. “She said she might text him. But she thought maybe it’d make things worse? For both of them, really.”

“Yeah." Niall nods. “I get it. That shit’s hard. Why can’t every breakup be like Harry’s? Name me one ex of his he’s not friends with.”

“Name me one ex of his who lasted for nearly four years.” Sophia steals his beer again. “Better yet, name me one of yours.”

“Hey, there’s no need to attack _me_ right now." Niall holds up his hands. “I’m just a real, whatever Harry would say, lazy fair person.”

“Laissez-Faire,” Sophia corrects him. Harry’s semester of thinking he was going to minor in French was a real time in all their lives. 

It’s quiet for a moment, Niall’s appetite coming back to him enough that he’s got another half taco to his credit when Sophia speaks up again.

“Have you talked to Zayn at all?” She sounds far too tentative. Niall doesn’t want to talk about it. He hasn’t even really talked to it with Liam, the two of them having a lot of monosyllabic Xbox nights this week. He definitely doesn’t want to talk about it with Louis. So it’s just been Harry, really. And that was just a check-in, _oh are things still fucked? yeah? good._

Niall shakes his head. He keeps chewing.

“Liam’s been so." Sophia stops, her mouth set in a line. “I texted him. Zayn.”

“Fuck." Niall takes a long, long drink of his beer, finishing it entirely. “What did you say?”

“Just asked him if he’d like, talk to Liam." Sophia shrugs. “He just sent back _K_.”

“So he told you to go fuck yourself, basically." Niall nods. “Great. Excellent. Fucking awesome.”

“No, I think he’s…” Sophia looks upset. It makes Niall wish Liam was around more so than usual. “I think it’s hard for him, too. I don’t know.”

“Yeah, well." Niall sighs. “Listen, can we just...want to see if one of those movies you like is on right now? We can do shitty movie night to match our shitty moods.”

Sophia looks like she might start smiling. “I think there’s the unauthorized true story of something on, yeah.”

“Alright,” Niall plants his hands on the table. “C’mon, you go find it and I’ll even clean up.”

“Yeah." Sophia nods, smiling fully now. “Thanks, Ni.”

“Sure, of course." Niall waits until she goes to finish off both their beers and shove everything in containers. He keeps his mind blank. 

By the time he makes it to the living room with more beers, Sophia’s already lit the candle on the coffee table and has a spot cleared next to her on the futon, the blanket pushed aside for Niall. He snaps a picture, sending it to Liam before he settles in. _Stealing ur Girl Li ;)_

Sophia looks at her phone while he adjusts the blanket so they’re both covered. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Aw, but I’m _your_ asshole, right?" Niall doesn’t flinch away quick enough to miss the punch Sophia lands directly on his arm. 

**

Niall realizes by seven the next night that he’s actually done so much he’s worked _ahead_ in his classes. Well. Guess everything being a fucking hellscape is a good motivator. 

He’s bored. Sophia and Liam are at their usual Sunday dinner at the Paynes and Niall doesn’t feel like doing anything, really. He wonders if Harry’s still around like he said he’d be, or if he and Louis somehow found themselves fucked out of their minds in another country or something.

 _Bored H_ Niall sends, doesn’t even have time to lock his phone before the dots appear, Harry responding.

 _Come over! We’re having movie night!_

_Me and Lou_ Harry adds.

_The movie’s half over_  
_Come now_  
_Louis says to bring beer or not come at all_

“Lou’s a piece of shit,” Niall says out loud, but he snags a six-pack from the fridge on the way out anyway. 

By the time he gets there and lets himself in, Louis is already standing in the kitchen doing shots in the Adidas shirt Niall knows is his current fave to go out in. 

“Look who’s late,” Louis raises his shot glass to Niall like a toast before knocking it back.

“Are you going out?” Niall sets his six pack on the table, looking down at how they still haven’t replaced the chairs after Zayn took them. He grabs a beer, handing another to Harry when he walks in.

“I am, you’re not." Louis grins. “Calvin called, and I think I’ve had enough roommate bonding for an entire semester.”

“Hey,” Harry grabs the opener from the counter, popping the top of both his and Niall’s beers. “You agreed to _The Notebook_ , that’s not on me.”

“I cannot believe,” Louis shakes his head, “that _that_ is the movie you’ve been talking about for years. It’s sad as shit!”

“Hold on,” Niall leans against the table, it shifting dangerously under his weight. “You didn’t know what that movie was about?”

“No, Niall, I did not." Louis rolls his eyes. “Harry here coerced me into getting emotional.”

“Don’t think you needed coercing, buddy." Harry digs his elbow into Niall’s side. “He was ranting and crying all on his own.”

“I was _not_ , I told you that you yawned which made me yawn which made my eyes water, and also your room is fucking dusty with all those piece of shit books which sets off my allergies." Louis does look like he’s a bit red around the eyes, now that Niall’s paying attention. 

“Maybe you should be the one thinking about creative writing Lou,” Harry looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “You’re a good storyteller.”

“Louis, you’ve lived with Harry for going on four years now, how did you _not_ know the entire plot of _The Notebook_?" Niall’s watched it himself probably ten times and he doesn’t always give in when Harry’s in one of his moods, usually after he’s ended things with someone, friend or otherwise.

“He always falls asleep." Harry sounds like this is something he’s said multiple times already today. “He just stayed awake this time.”

“Yeah, and it made me feel _great_.” Louis looks that way he’s been more frequently this year, and it makes Niall want to leave his own body, like this is the moment Louis is gonna give in and lose it. “Anyway, I’m off. Gotta drink that piece of shit movie right out of my mind.”

“Louis,” Niall can see the way Harry’s mouth turns down a bit, the worry in his wide eyes. “C’mon, we’ll do something. If you want, we can go to mine, use the TV?”

Louis looks for a moment like he’s considering it, Harry reaching around to pinch at Niall’s side. When Niall looks over, Harry smiles at him. 

“Nah,” Louis shakes his head. “Gotta get out, clear my head. Been a shitty week.”

“I don’t know if --” Harry starts, but Louis holds up his hand. Niall gets the feeling this is a conversation they’ve had before.

“I’ll be back early tonight, I promise." Louis’s got a soft expression on his face. “Niall, you staying late?”

“Got a nine AM tomorrow,” Niall watches Louis and Harry do their complicated secret handshake.

“So late then,” Louis nods. “I’ll see you then, probably.”

“Sure sure,” Niall mimes like he’s going for Louis’s dick, Louis flinching away and laughing out the door.

“Well,” Harry says, trailing behind Niall as he makes his way into the living room. It’s so fucking weird, how it doesn’t look that different minus the missing TV, all the consoles and Harry’s Blu-ray stacked up in its place. Niall tries to remember how it used to be, Zayn’s shit everywhere too. 

It’s like he didn’t bother unpacking, not this year. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Harry says, Niall startling. He can feel himself start to chew on his thumbnail, feels caught out by Harry. “I promise it won’t be _The Notebook_.”

“Yeah yeah,” Niall follows Harry down the hall, can’t help but notice how Zayn’s door is closed. “You guys decide what it’s gonna be?”

“We’ve put a pin in it,” Harry says over his shoulder. He makes a face when he turns as Niall follows him through the doorway. “I think it’d be a cool like, Salon. We could put all our stuff on the walls, like a Kunstkammer.”

“Sophia said we’re not allowed to use that word.” Niall laughs. “Wait, tell me again what that is? It’s like a Bennigan’s, right?”

“It’s _not_ like a Bennigan’s." Harry groans. “Niall, we’re not arguing about this again. And Zayn left a bunch of his shit up on the walls so it’s like, already the beginnings of one. Just think, we can all like, study in there, and debate shit, and I _told_ Louis we could have fancy alcohol nights, especially after I found those snifters at the thrift store --”

“Fancy alcohol, Louis’s favorite," Niall interrupts, bouncing on Harry’s bed and narrowly avoiding his computer.

“He’d like it if he gave it a chance.” Harry crosses his arms.

“Maybe if you just like, repackage it. Mispronounce it a little." Niall laughs. “Louis might be more into a --.”

“Sophia said we’re not allowed to use that word," Harry interrupts, a grin threatening to overtake his face. 

“Sophia’s not heeeeere.” Niall singsongs, leaning back and -- “Wait, why are there no sheets on your bed? Were you two lying out on this bare mattress, watching _The Notebook_ together?”

“It was very, very romantic. Louis and I have discussed it, it’s mutual.” Harry rolls his eyes. “I was washing them earlier, Louis wouldn’t get up to let me make the bed.”

“Well, I’m a little more high maintenance than Louis, so come on, if we’re gonna watch a movie on your bed --” Niall gets up, carefully setting Harry’s computer on top of the books on his desk. There’s a fuckton of them. “Jesus, how do you have that much reading? What’s that, that’s not a textbook Harry, that is a _novel_.”

“I’m taking a class on the contemporary novel." Harry shrugs. “It’s a really good one too that we’re starting with, it’s --”

“Jesus, it must be nice to go to a book club instead of a real class." Niall takes the bottom sheet when Harry hands it to him, trying to make sense of its jumble.

“Yeah, you’d do real well trying to analyze the importance of the written word. Tell me, how _was_ the swamp the other day?" Harry climbs across Niall to get the sheet on the opposite corner.

“Fuck you,” Niall tosses the sheet over Harry’s head, laughing when Harry tries to flail his way out of it. 

“Hey,” Harry’s hair is everywhere when he emerges. “I saw this BuzzFeed video the other day on like, the best bed making hacks, hand me my computer.”

They make the bed, and sprawl out fine, but when Niall notices the time again he’s pretty sure they’ve watched every BuzzFeed video ever and are now in the darkest corner of the internet, the two of them flinching in fascination as some girl pops her friend’s pimple that’s been growing for -- 

“Six years." Harry sounds horrified. “How do you let that go for six fucking years?" 

“It looks more like sixty from this angle,” Niall resists the urge to cover his eyes when the shit just...keeps coming out. “Harry, fuck, it’s midnight. What movie are we gonna watch?”

“It’s just us, so…” Harry tilts his head so he can meet Niall’s eyes. “No one to complain, Niall.”

“Oh shit, it is just us." Niall grins. No one threatening to kill themselves out of boredom. “You gotta promise not to cry.”

“Please,” Harry snorts, clicking around his desktop to open his movies folder and bring up _Bagger Vance_. “You always cry first.”

“Who cried like ten minutes into it the first time we watched it, when you came to Boston with me freshman year?" Niall laughs, shifting when Harry shoves closer to him on the bed so his laptop can balance on their legs better.

“Shut up, you cried harder and for longer." Harry presses play. “You good on pillows?”

“Yeah,” Niall tilts his head back to get more comfortable. “Hey, Harry. It’s midnight.”

“He’ll come home soon,” Harry says quietly. Niall’s glad he knew without Niall having to say it. He laughs when the movie starts and Harry makes an exaggerated sob, grinning over at Niall when he turns his head.

Niall’s thigh is on fire when he wakes up, the movie long over and Harry passed out on his shoulder. His laptop’s shifted so it’s only on Niall’s lap, and if it was on fire Niall wouldn’t be surprised with how hot it feels. He looks at the clock on Harry’s nightstand. Fuck. Three AM. 

“Niall,” Harry groans when Niall shuts it down and leans over Harry to set it on the floor. “Go back to sleep.”

“Gotta go home,” Niall sits up, feeling stupid with sleep. “Got class. In, fuck, six hours.”

“Just sleep here,” Harry’s still got his eyes closed when Niall looks down at him. “Can borrow clothes.”

“Yeah, alright." Niall gives in easily, because Harry’s bed is warm and the room smells like the cinnamon candle he was burning earlier. He slides back down, turning so Harry’s chin isn’t digging into his shoulder.

“Cried yourself to sleep,” Harry mumbles, his hand patting at Niall’s hip. “So embarrassing.”

**

“FIREBALL!” Harry shouts, somehow managing to pass out the shots. Niall grabs one, downing it only to get his hand slapped by Harry.

“What the fuck, Harry?" Niall takes Liam’s shot while he’s not looking and has what looks like his entire face down Sophia’s throat, does it before sticking his tongue out in Harry’s direction.

“I wanted us --” Harry sways for a minute, closing his eyes. “We were gonna toast. I was gonna do it in French. Make it FRENCH TOAST.”

“Jesus, when did you get so sloppy?" Louis climbs over Liam and Sophia in the booth they managed to snag in the back of Jim’s. “You’re better than this, Harry. Yelling like a fuckface in a bar.”

“You’re all so loud,” Sophia detaches herself from Liam long enough to do her shot. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Where’s mine?" Liam pouts. He takes the beer from in front of Harry. “Baby, someone stole mine.”

“I bet it was Niall,” Sophia points at Niall, tapping her finger on his forehead. He laughs. “Niall looks so, so guilty.”

“Is it hot in here?” Harry asks. When Niall looks over he’s got his shirt entirely unbuttoned. “I’m so hot.”

“Yeah you are,” Sophia slurs, Liam making a hurt noise. “Oh no, not as hot as you, baby, I was just appreciating Harry’s tits.”

“Your tits are OUT,” Sophia says very seriously in Harry’s direction, to Harry’s delight.

“Sophia, I’ve known you for many years now, and I think I can say that I didn’t truly love you until this very moment." Louis raises his glass of Jack before knocking it back.

“I’m gonna punch you, Louis." Liam’s got his whole hand on top of Sophia’s head. “Niall, I’m gonna punch Louis.”

“Don’t think you should,” Niall tries to pull his hand back when Harry grabs it from across the table. “Do you even know which one of us is Louis?”

“I’m gonna --” Liam turns to Sophia who may or may not have her hand in his pants under the table, Niall’s not sure what part of Liam he’s even looking at when he glances down. He hopes to fuck it’s his leg. “Soph, give me a second.”

Sophia holds her hands up above her head, Harry reaching up to high five her immediately. Niall starts laughing. 

“I’m gonna punch all of you.” Liam pauses.

“Harry, get more shots,” Niall thinks he says. Either way, Harry’s stumbling off from their table.

“I’m gonna punch Zayn.” Liam adds, and Niall closes his eyes.

“Is he _here_?” Louis slings his arm around Niall’s neck, pushing his mouth against his ear. “He better not be here.”

“I don’t think he’s here." Niall looks up when Harry gets back with a tray of shots. “Harry, is Zayn here?”

“No, was I supposed to bring him?" Harry looks confused for a moment. “Louis, I forgot to bring Zayn.”

“Guess you gotta move out." Louis divvies up the shots. “TO HARRY MOVING OUT.”

“You can come stay with me, Harry." Sophia turns to Liam. “Liam, do you mind?”

“Yes,” Liam says. “Harry, no.”

“Harry YES.”

“What time is kick-off tomorrow?" Louis still has his face in Niall’s personal bubble. Niall tries to shove him off.

“It’s Saturday." Niall guesses. “It’s when kick-off is.”

“I think it’s three.” Sophia laughs. “Harry, I’m braiding your hair this time.”

“You are not,” Louis sits up. “Sophia, don’t.”

“Guys, I really am hot." Harry coughs like he’s testing something out. “Someone tell me if I have a fever.”

“You have a fever." Liam says dutifully.

“Christ, this is why I don’t go out with you fuckers anymore." Louis stands up. “I’m getting more shots.”

“Shots shots shots shots." Harry grabs for Niall’s hand again. “Niall, feel how hot I am.”

“Uh,” Niall starts, before Louis starts yelling from across the bar that Harry has to come help him.

“Coming!” Harry scrambles over his chair, Liam waving his arms around in a pretty good impression of him.

“Tonight has been like,” Niall tries to remember the word. “Good. It’s been good.”

“It’s been a long week." Liam nods, Sophia nodding and not stopping even when Liam does. “Soph, what?”

“What?" Sophia laughs, reaching over and putting her hands on Niall’s face. “Niall, I love you.”

“Love you too, Soph.” Niall grabs her wrists, putting her hands on Liam’s face. “And Liam. We love Liam.”

“We _do_ love Liam." Sophia giggles. 

“Liam,” Liam says, looking like he’s all blurry for a second. “Liam loves you too.”

“Jesus Christ,” Louis appears suddenly, doling out shots. “What the fuck did I walk in on.”

“Louis, we love you.” Liam says, sounding serious. “Do you love us?”

“Fuck no." Louis’s smiling though, pushing past to settle in between Liam and Sophia, slinging an arm around them both. “You’re all pieces of shit.”

“That’s not nice,” Harry squeezes in next to Niall, his shirt still hanging open. He’s holding a glass of water.

“The fuck is that?” Louis asks, making a face when Harry takes a drink. “That vodka looks like water.”

“Oh no, I paid for top shelf _water_." Harry laughs at his own joke before groaning. “I told you, I feel hot.”

“Do this shot first,” Louis nudges at the glass in front of Harry, “and then you can have all the water you want.”

“Okay,” Harry shrugs, squeezing at Niall’s leg when he does it, making a face. “That made my throat hurt.”

“Harry,” Niall tries to focus on Harry’s face. “You alright?" He can’t tell if Harry’s eyes, all four of them, look glassy because he’s wasted or not.

“Dunno." Harry turns, rolling up the sleeve of Niall’s shirt before pressing his forehead to Niall’s shoulder. “Am I?”

“You feel sort of hot, I guess?" Niall pats at Harry’s hair. “Buck up, soldier.”

“Harry,” Sophia’s hand reaches across to land on top of Niall’s, “I love you.”

**

About an hour into tailgate, it starts raining. They all feel like shit. Niall hasn’t drank enough to recover from his monster hangover, had woken up to Liam somehow sleeping on his floor. Sophia was on the futon, no better than either of them. She’s passed out in the front seat of Liam’s car, had already promised she’d sit with them for this game.

Louis might be the only one who’s doing fine -- he had showed up with Harry in tow and a smile on his face, keeps disappearing to hit up other tailgates. Niall knows it’s just because Louis had gone on somewhere else after they’d all parted ways, probably won’t be sober enough to feel hungover until late Sunday.

And Harry’s dying.

They’re all used to it by now. Harry just...gets sick. California didn’t breed him right for weather in the Midwest, or something. It’s never anything that bad, but just enough that when he’d looked at them all pathetically when he’d arrived and Louis had said, “Harry’s got a case of the Harrys,” no one had blinked. Except for Liam, who offered Harry one of the warmer beers they had in the backseat.

“For your throat, Harry." Liam had insisted, Harry finally nodding before sitting in one of the chairs and sipping it from a cup.

He’s still there now when the rain really starts going, skips right from a few drops to a steady drizzle. Niall takes the poncho that Liam hands him, slipping it on over his head.

“Niall, get Harry set, yeah?" Louis is already in his and embroiled in some sort of intense drinking game with Liam that they keep changing the rules to. “Liam, if your hair gets wet before mine you have to shotgun two beers.”

“Deal." Liam runs past Niall when he tries to duck Louis knocking his hat off.

“Harry,” Niall tries not to laugh when he sees that Harry’s unmoved except for how he’s pulled his shirt over his head, just the top of his scarf and some wet curls peeking out the top. “C’mon, I’ve got a poncho for you.”

“Niall, is that you?" Harry’s head turns, his voice all muffled. He sounds pathetic.

“Harry,” Niall pulls at the shirt, his fingers brushing Harry’s forehead as he does. He really is hot to the touch. “Why don’t you go lie down in the backseat?”

“Okay." Harry lets Niall stand him up and lead him around the car, Niall shoving aside the massive amount of shit they’ve got in the backseat so he can curl up. His eyes are closed by the time Niall’s shutting the door. He’ll be fine; most of the time Harry’s one good nap away from a decent enough recovery when this happens.

“Niall,” Liam points at him when he reemerges, his other hand holding his keys for a shotgun. “Will Harry live?”

“Yeah,” Niall takes the beer Louis hands him. “I think he’ll make it.”

“He’s doing better than you, Liam." Louis says, looking ridiculous in his aviators with the hood of his poncho cinched tight around his face. 

**

“I think the ball is slippery!” Liam’s not even next to Niall and it sounds like he’s shouting.

“I think that your --” Louis starts, before Liam’s wrapped his arm around his head, muffling the rest of whatever he was saying.

“Either way, this is a fucking nightmare." Niall turns away from the game, fucking App State celebrating on the field. So fucking what, they scored off a fumble two minutes in. “Soph.”

“Yeah?” Sophia looks at Niall over Harry’s pathetic form between them, his head tipped against Niall’s shoulder. 

“Does he feel hot to you?" Niall can feel it even through all the layers he’s got on right now, even through the cold of the rain that’s still pelting down on them. 

Harry doesn’t say anything when Sophia presses the back of her hand to his forehead, just moans pathetically. She frowns.

“He’s burning up." She bites at her lip, her hair plastered to her forehead. “Don’t think he should be like, outside. Do you think Louis would take him home?”

Niall glances back at how Louis is still wrestling with Liam. “Don’t think Louis can take anyone anywhere right now.”

“Maybe…” Sophia trails off, like she’s considering something. Niall touches his fingers to Harry’s cheek this time. Jesus. 

“I’ll take him, can you help though?" Niall knows that Sophia hasn’t drank anything at all today; she could drive Liam’s car. They ended up in a place in the lot that they could get out of pretty easily, he thinks. 

Harry coughs this time, leaning forward. Sophia rubs at his back, nodding at Niall.

“Yeah, I don’t want to be an accessory to murder here. Can you get Liam’s keys?" Sophia ducks her head down, saying something to Harry.

“Liam." Niall turns and elbows Louis. “Louis, get Liam’s keys. Soph and I are taking Harry home.”

“His case of the Harrys take a turn?" Louis leans around Niall to get a look at Harry. “Christ, yeah. You guys good to take him? I told him not to come, fucking idiot.”

“Louis,” Niall starts, about to tell him to be a little fucking nicer when Harry’s dying when Louis gets a weird look on his face.

“Don’t want to lose another one." Louis pauses for what feels like far too long before he laughs. “Maybe we can turn the extra room into Harry’s sanitarium.”

“A place for him to waste away,” Niall’s never been so grateful for Louis acting like a dick. “Liam, need your keys.”

“To my car?” Liam asks, his eyes wide.

“No, to the apartment I share with you, c’mon." Niall leans over Louis. “Soph’s gonna drive Harry home, I’m going to help take care of his sick ass.”

“How will I get home?” Liam’s still half into the game and more than half drunk; Niall bites at his lip so he won’t say anything shitty to him.

“Liam, just give him the keys." Louis shoves his hand down the front of Liam’s poncho and somehow produces them. “Look at Harry, he’s gotta go.”

“Oh shit." Liam frowns, his eyes focusing in finally. “Niall, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Liam." Niall pats at his head. “We’ll see you later, yeah? Put your phone away so it won’t get wet.”

They edge past Liam and Louis, Sophia leading the way and weaving through the crowd with Niall bringing up the rear. Harry’s moving slow, but at least he’s moving. 

**

“Sophiaaaaa,” Niall hands Harry the clean hoodie he found in his room; Harry had already changed out of his wet clothes once they got in before he stumbled back out and curled up on the futon, but he’s just wearing sweats. That’s it. 

“Yeah?” Sophia calls out from the kitchen while Niall gives up on wrestling Harry into the hoodie and just drapes it over him.

“Can you make me tea too?" Niall’s cold too, because even though he’d grabbed some of Harry’s clothes (he knows better to assume Louis has anything even remotely clean) his hair is still wet and it’s like the cold’s set in his bones, or something.

There’s a beat of silence, then Sophia’s head pops out around the doorway.

“Did you just ask me to make you tea?" Sophia’s in one of Harry’s shirts too, her hair all wavy instead of the straight way Niall’s used to. “Like. Are you sick too now?”

“No, but." Niall widens his eyes. “I’m so _cold_ , Sophia. I bet tea would kill any germs I’m gonna get from Harry.”

“Oh. My. God." Sophia disappears, but Niall can hear her getting another mug from the cupboard with the squeaky door.

“Love you, Soph!” Niall calls out before looking down at Harry. “Harry, dude.”

“Niall." Harry’s eyes are still closed. “Dude.”

“Why did you even --” Niall wants to ask him, why he bothered coming when he’s so hot that Niall’s not even touching him and he can feel it coming off of Harry’s skin in waves. But he looks so fucking pathetic that Niall doesn’t want to upset him.

“Sorry I ruined the game,” Harry mumbles into the pillow he’d brought out from his room. Niall doesn’t know why he didn’t just get in his bed.

“I think our football team were the ones ruining the game." Niall runs his fingers over Harry’s hair. It’s still wet but not cold like Niall’s, feels warm almost. 

“Alright,” Sophia appears carrying two steaming mugs. “Harry, where’s your thermometer?”

“In California.”

“That’s helpful." Sophia sounds like she’s trying not to laugh. “Okay, let’s try this again.”

“Shoot." Harry sits up, his hair sticking up everywhere and the hoodie Niall had draped over him falling on the floor. He takes the mug Sophia hands him and takes a sip, making a face. “Did you use my honey or Louis’s honey?”

“I used the honey,” Sophia says slowly, glancing over at Niall. He shrugs. “It was, you know, in a plastic bear.”

“So you used Louis’s,” Harry sounds so sad that Niall feels almost bad for laughing. “Mine is in the special glass jar. It’s not a bear.”

“What is it then, buddy?" Niall asks, because Sophia’s been taking a lot for the team since they got in. 

“It’s a,” Harry takes another sip, his nose all wrinkled up, “it’s a little beehive. It’s from a local farm.”

“From a local farm, okay." Sophia takes a deep breath, crossing her arms before she smiles. “Guess what, I think I did use not the bear honey! I used the local beehive one. I misspoke.”

“Sophia,” Harry narrows his eyes, “I’m sick, not _stupid_.”

“Harry,” Niall can’t stop laughing at how pissed Harry looks. “C’mon.”

“I appreciate it, you making it,” Harry says, sounding like he means it, “I know you all think I’m into this organic shit just to be hipster trash, but I’m just doing like, the best. For my body. And yes, Sophia, I heard you call me hipster trash just last night.”

“Harry,” Sophia starts, looking like she feels bad, but Harry starts shaking his head.

“If I use the local honey, it helps with my allergies since I’m still not used to all the pollen and stuff here,” Harry shrugs, taking another sip. “That’s all. I don’t always have a dumb reason.”

“That makes sense, Harry. I’ll get you some." Sophia takes his mug, staring at Niall when he holds out his. “You get the shitty bear honey, Niall. You’re fine.”

“If I get allergies this year, it’s on you Soph." Niall takes a sip of his tea anyway. It tastes good, especially since he stopped drinking hours ago and he can feel the first stages of his hangover creep in.

“However will I live with myself?" Sophia asks as she walks back into the kitchen.

“Harry, question." Niall fishes the hoodie off of the floor when Harry shivers a bit and holds it out for him to shrug on. 

“Niall, answer." Harry sniffles a little.

“So if the honey helps with your allergies, what does all those weird organic fruits do?" Niall can still remember the first time he went to Whole Foods with Harry, the closest one that’s still over an hour away. It was like a weird expensive fruit zoo.

“They make my spunk taste better." Harry’s got his eyes closed again, but there’s a smirk on his face. “Niall, get with the program.”

“Sophia,” Niall says when she walks back into the room, “I don’t think Harry feels so sick, after all.”

“Harry, where is the ibuprofen?" Sophia ignores Niall entirely, which is bullshit. “You gotta take something to get your fever down.”

“The bathroom. Think Louis left it on the counter." Harry shoves his mug in Niall’s direction. Niall leans away. “I can get it, Sophia.”

“Please." Sophia waves her hand at Harry to stay seated, turning to walk away. 

“Sophia, get me some too,” Niall groans when Sophia gives him a look. “What, I have a headache!”

She yells something Niall can’t really make out, but he knows it wasn’t exactly complimentary. Whatever.

“Sophia’s so nice,” Harry says. When Niall turns, Harry’s got a dopey smile on his face. “To me.”

“Don’t push it." Niall leans in a little closer. “Harry, you’re sweating through your crustache.”

“Shut up." Harry runs his fingers over his top lip anyway. “It’s just the fever, is all. And I haven't shaved in a few days.”

“Your crustache is crying because it’s so sad." Niall shakes his head. “What a tragic thing to witness.”

“Fuck you,” Harry looks like he’s about to say more when Sophia walks back in the room, holding a pill bottle with a frown on her face.

“You’re out,” she shakes the bottle. There’s no noise. “I can’t find anything else, and I don’t have my bigger bag.”

“Louis’s been having a lot of hangovers." Harry frowns. “He probably forgot to put it on the list.”

“He --” Sophia takes a deep breath. “Harry, I think you should go to bed.”

“I’m in bed." Harry widens his eyes when Sophia puts her hands on her hips. “What? This is a futon, it turns _into_ a bed.”

“He’s got you there, Soph." Niall fist bumps Harry, who coughs. He sounds horrible. “Harry, please go to bed.”

“I’m in bed." Harry repeats, his face falling a little when Niall doesn’t agree with him this time. “Alright, alright.”

He stands up, Sophia looking away like some Victorian lady when his sweats slip down a little low on his hips. Niall snorts. Like Liam isn’t nearly dick out around the apartment in the mornings. 

“Harry, pull up your shit." Niall finally says when Harry stretches, causing everything to go lower.

“Oh,” Harry seems to get even more flushed than he was before. “Sorry, Soph.”

“Seen it, not interested." Sophia cups Harry’s elbow. “C’mon, I’ll even tuck you in.”

“You are the _best_ , Sophia. Liam is very lucky." Harry glances over his shoulder at Niall. “Niall, isn’t Liam lucky?”

“The luckiest." Niall watches them shuffle down the hallway, about to follow when someone’s knocking at the door. He pulls it open to find a very wet Liam.

“We’re still losing." Liam frowns. “Louis wanted to stay.”

“What is it, halftime?" Niall knows they haven’t been gone that long. “Where’s Louis?”

“He wanted to stay,” Liam sways a little on his feet; Niall can tell he’s still wasted. God, Liam is the longest drunk Niall’s ever known. “I got a ride from Eleanor. Don’t tell Louis.”

Fuck. “Was she your only option?”

“Oh please, I talk to her all the time,” Liam eyes Niall’s mug on the table, “is that booze? Louis has to know that since Soph lives with her I can’t freeze her out. It’s not nice.”

“It’s tea." Niall feels like he’s getting too much information all at once. Shit he already should have known and was willfully ignoring. 

“Fuck, why?" Liam looks at Niall like he just shot his dog in front of him. “Tea?”

“Harry’s sick and I was cold." Niall shrugs. “Sophia made it.”

“Maybe she put something in it." Liam walks over to the mug and takes a sip. “Oh. She didn’t.”

“Sorry Li." Niall claps his back. “Hard pill to swallow.”

“Zayn didn’t show up, by the way." Liam sits down on the futon, squinting up at Niall and rubbing at the side of his face. “If you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t." Niall says honestly. Maybe he should have? “Did we think he would be?" 

This feels unfair, Liam blindsiding him with this conversation when Niall’s about to dive headfirst into his hangover and Liam’s probably a drink away from blacking out.

“No." Liam shakes his head, keeps shaking it. “Yes? I don’t know.”

“I don’t know either.”

Sophia walks back out into the room at just the right time, before Niall has to deal with much else.

“Babe,” she says, “you’re here?”

“I’m here!” Liam holds out the mug. “You didn’t put alcohol in this.”

“Liam’s very hurt." Niall adds, “Maybe you should take him home." 

Niall was hoping that Sophia would stick around and make sure Harry didn’t die, but at this moment he’s pretty sure that Liam needs her more. Niall could use some alone time. Well. Not so much alone but Harry’s good for not dredging up shit that’ll make everyone depressed, especially if he’s passed out.

“Yeah." Sophia nods walking over to thread her fingers through Liam’s hair. “Alright, you’re good? Just keep an eye on him, I feel bad we don’t have anything to bring down his fever. Or a thermometer. Or anything.”

“If it gets really bad, can I…” Niall trails off, biting his lip until Sophia rolls her eyes and nods. 

“Yeah, just call. I’ll answer if I’m not busy with this one." Sophia grabs Liam’s keys from the table. “Li, c’mon. I think you should go to bed, too.”

“Yeeeeah." Liam makes a motion like he’s fucking the air. How sweet.

“No, Liam." Sophia turns to Niall. “He won’t die, as long as you don’t let him.”

“Thanks so much for the help." Niall shakes his head, opening the door for them to leave. “I feel so good now.”

**

After Liam and Soph leave, Niall checks the score on his phone. Fuck. He turns off the game alerts he’d had on before because life’s hard enough already, and realizes that it’s way past dinner. The later kick-offs always fuck him up. 

Harry and Louis don’t really have any food Niall could eat without cooking. Or being particularly adventurous and loose about expiration dates. Shocker. He’ll order a pizza, bringing up the app on his phone and walking toward Harry’s room. Niall’ll see what he wants before ordering, figures Harry can get in good rest while they wait since delivery takes fucking eternity on game days.

Harry’s asleep when Niall walks in, curled on his side with the blankets pulled all the way up and tucked around him, like Sophia really did tuck him in. Normally Niall would launch himself on top of Harry until he wakes up, but there’s something about it that makes him stop. Probably how it looks like Harry’s already got a little bit of sweat gathering on his forehead and his breathing sounds weird. 

Niall sits carefully on the edge of the bed anyway and orders a couple pizzas, knows that Louis will thank him later even if Harry’s still passed out. The app tells him that as soon as someone named Tyler finishes making his order, it’ll be forever hours until it’s there. Or, an hour. Same difference. 

Harry still doesn’t move, so Niall scrolls through Twitter and Insta and Snapchat, even though he knows that the game is probably just ending so there won’t really be anything there. There’s one Zayn selfie where he’s pretty sure is at Shahid’s that he carefully scrolls by so it won’t accidentally like it, and he locks his phone entirely, looking around Harry’s room. He’d use Harry’s laptop to watch something, but he’s not really in the mood. It’s weird, this feeling like he wants to get out of his own head but doesn’t know how. He wishes Harry would wake up and distract him.

By the time the pizza comes, he’s settled for the next best thing, reading a book Harry had on his overflowing Ikea bookshelf. He thinks it might have been from a few semesters ago, the characters sounding vaguely familiar like Harry might have told him about it. He thinks Harry took a cold war fiction class, maybe. 

He keeps reading while he eats, only gets a little bit of sauce on one of the post-its Harry’s got inside with little notes written on it. Niall feels slightly bad throwing it away, but feels less bad after he drinks another beer from the fridge. 

Remembering that he left his phone on Harry’s bed, Niall throws a couple slices on a plate and grabs a bottle of water before walking back into Harry’s room. He figures he should make him eat, remembers Mom always talking about feeding a fever. 

“Harry,” Niall sets the plate and bottle on Harry’s nightstand, grabbing his phone from the mass of blankets. There’s one text from Sophia, just a picture of Liam drooling. Niall responds quick _Sorry we’re both dealing w sick babies soph_ before he closes his hand over Harry’s shoulder, shaking it a bit.

“Harry,” he says again. Harry groans a little bit, squinting his eyes open. 

“Niall,” he sounds fucking awful. “What time is it?”

“Dinner time, c’mon." Niall feels a weird wave of panic well up in his gut when he pulls at Harry’s arm to get him to sit up; Harry really is burning up.

“Oh. Pizza." Harry sounds flat. He shivers. 

“Yeah, I ordered it a while ago." Niall hands him the water first. “Here, take a drink. Are you cold?”

“Um,” Harry sips the water instead of what he usually does, downing half the bottle in one go. “Yeah? Like, my head’s not cold, but." 

“Okay, well." Niall takes the bottle and hands him the plate. “Eat, I think that’ll help.”

“I guess." Harry makes a face but he eats it anyway, Niall watching him chew it carefully like it hurts. 

“Harry, like,” Niall just feels weird about how Harry looks. Maybe he’s never paid enough attention before when Harry gets sick. “Should I take you to health services?”

“Would I have to leave my bed?" Harry chews on a piece of crust. “If yes, then a hard pass.”

“Harry,” Niall laughs when Harry smiles. It’s not as wide as normal but it’s something. “C’mon, I’m being serious. I don’t want to be held accountable for your death.”

“We’re all dying, Niall.”

“Oh Christ, are you taking a philosophy class again?" Niall takes the plate, hands Harry the water so he’ll finish it. 

“You don’t take a philosophy class, Niall." Harry shakes his hair out. His eyes are glassy. “A philosophy class takes you...on a journey." 

“I wish I could blame this on the fever, Harry." Niall waves his finger around Harry’s face. “But no, it’s just you.”

“I’m your favorite person, please." Harry shivers again. Niall can hear his teeth knocking together.

“Sure, whatever you wanna think." Niall bites his lip. Harry’s acting mostly normal, but he looks like such shit that it’s unnerving. “I’ll be right back, lie down.”

“Okay, okay." Harry’s already face-planting on the pillow when Niall edges out of the room, dialing his mom. Maura Horan will know what to do when faced with a fever that sort of feels like Harry might be actually on fire. 

**

Five cold compresses, three hours, and what Harry referred to as “a weird sponge bath” later (Niall was just following his mom’s instructions to try putting a compress on Harry’s chest), Harry’s fever feels like it’s down a bit.

“Oh no, another sponge bath?” Harry laughs when Niall switches out the washcloth on Harry’s chest. 

“You wish, please." Niall drops the warm one on the floor. He’ll pick it up later. “You’re feeling better, yeah?”

“Yeah. Just tired." Harry takes a deep breath, looking like he’s assessing how he feels as he stretches his arms and legs. “Hurt all over.”

“My mom said aches are normal." Niall adjusts the scarf he’s got tied around Harry’s forehead to keep that compress in place. He looks fucking ridiculous. “Should I like, alert your mom that I have saved your life?”

“Already told her,” Harry points to his phone on the desk. “While you were getting us more tea. She says thanks, by the way.”

“What are the odds I get an Anne care package soon?" Niall settles so his back is against the wall, looking down at Harry. 

Harry laughs, coughing for a second. “Pretty high, she asked me to remind her what your favorite candy is.”

“I suddenly have no regrets about spending my Saturday with your sick ass." Niall leans over the edge of the bed, grabbing the book he finished while Harry was dozing. “This was good, by the way.”

“Niall." Harry’s eyes are wide. “You read this? I’ve been recommending it to you for like a year!”

“It was good." Niall shrugs. He likes spy stuff. “Does he have any other good ones?”

“Does John le Carré have any other good ones." Harry looks the most like himself that he has all day, speaking slowly. “Niall. Are you fucking with me?”

“No, I was being serious." Niall laughs at the look on Harry’s face. “Sorry that I’ve mortally wounded you, Harry.”

“I’m just so sad,” Harry turns on his side, looking tired again, “that your education has failed you so badly.”

“Ah, but do you know that mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell?" Niall leans over to push at Harry’s shoulder. “C’mon, on your back, otherwise all my hard work slides all over the place.”

“I hate sleeping on my back." Harry moves anyway, fixing all the washcloths. “Hey, have you heard from Louis?”

“Nah, but he’ll probably be out late, right?" Niall tenses a little bit when Harry frowns.

“Maybe he’s out with Liam." Harry pauses, looking confused. “Wait, where’s Soph?”

“She left hours ago, buddy." Niall shakes his head. “With Liam.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Niall nods. “Oh.”

“Hey,” Harry pokes his foot into Niall’s thigh. “not to be lame, but wanna stay here tonight? Don’t know if Louis will come home, and…”

“I figured I was anyway, to be honest." Niall realizes he’s not lying, hadn’t planned on going home. Harry gives him a thumbs up. 

“Just gonna close my eyes for a little bit,” Harry’s voice has gone extra slow, “then. You and me. We’re gonna party.”

“Sure, Harry." Niall grabs his phone. “You’re a real party animal right now.”

_Staying at yours tonight so you don’t come home to dead roommate_

Louis doesn’t respond.

**

Niall wakes up to a door slamming and Louis’s voice. Harry’s unmoving half on top of him, passed out completely. The clock says it’s after 3 AM, which is bullshit. Although he supposes Louis being home at all is better than him remaining MIA. 

Niall lies there and listens to all the noises, it sounding like Louis is stumbling around. He should probably go check on him, tell him to shut the fuck up or he’ll wake up Harry. He’s finally struggling to get Harry off of his shoulder when he can hear Louis speak.

“Alright then,” it’s faint, because Louis’s room isn’t directly next to Harry’s, but then it’s pretty clear what’s happening, the sound of another voice, muffled, before Louis continues. “You’re so…fuck, yeah.”

Living with Liam, Niall’s pretty used to sleeping through people fucking, has done his best at times to get Liam back -- this feels extra loud, because it’s so quiet and Harry’s not even doing him the courtesy of snoring for once in his life. 

Harry makes a noise like he might wake up before he’s a dead weight on Niall’s shoulder again. There’s a long groan that feels like it echoes throughout the entire apartment, and Niall bunches up the pillow so it’s covering one of his ears. Louis has been having a shitty time, he tells himself. He deserves this. Maybe not so fucking loud, but he deserves this. Jesus. It feels like Harry’s fever might be coming back for how hot it feels in the bed.

It takes fucking forever to fall back asleep.

**

“Okay, tell me again." Niall takes another sip of coffee, willing himself to wake up. “Why is Harry driving your car?”

“Because,” Liam shrugs, or at least it would be a shrug if he wasn’t currently laid out on the futon, “he said he missed driving regularly like he gets to in the summer, knows I hate night driving.”

“It’s technically morning." Niall looks at his phone. “Four AM is morning.”

“Is the sun out?" Liam’s got his face fully pressed into the pillow he’d dragged out from his room. “If it isn’t, it’s still night.”

“Louis usually,” Niall starts, Liam groaning already.

“I had this conversation with him all week, Ni, he’s off driving." Liam sits up, looking like an angry baby. Like Theo when he doesn’t get his way.

“Alright alright." It’s just stupid. Louis always drives, even though he and Liam both have cars. But. If everything else is changing.

“Harry’s a good driver,” Liam says slowly, like he’s trying to figure something out. “I always let him borrow it.”

“Please tell me we’re not going on a ski trip." It’s like a Harry tradition at this point, borrowing Liam’s car and taking whatever girl he’s currently seeing to the ski resort an hour away. “It’s too early and I don’t want anyone to get stitches." 

Another Harry tradition.

Liam rolls his eyes, always a fucking idiot who can’t take a joke when he’s not quite awake. 

“He said he’s feeling better after being a mess all week, so I said it was fine." Liam pauses, finally smiling, “Louis said something along those lines, just using different words.”

“Oh, I know, I had lunch with him Thursday." Niall rolls his eyes. He actually hasn’t seen Harry since he checked in on him Monday after his lab even though there’s been a real over usage of the sick person emoji landing in his inbox all week; Louis had said it was basically a nightmare and he’s been _forced_ to serve as a nanny to a whiny baby for days on end. 

It actually was an annoying lunch, trying to convince Louis that Harry was still allowed to come to the game, their first away that’s actually within driving distance. 

“Just us bros,” Liam says, grinning when Niall meets his eyes. “Gonna be awesome.”

“You’re not gonna whine that you miss Sophia?" Niall purposefully doesn’t say Zayn, because he already knows the answer to that one. But Liam’s also pretty good at keeping his shit together in that regard around Louis, or at least he’s good at going along with Louis’s rants. Niall’s overheard some things. Harry’s told him some other things.

“Nope." Liam draws it out when he says it. “It’s bro weekend. Sophia’s got girl weekend.”

“I thought Sophia had _shit, I have to write that paper_ weekend." It feels like they’ve all reached that point in the semester where they realized that they have to get their shit together, especially if any of them plan on graduating. It feels like it’s hit a little harder this year. Louis had even told Niall all about some presentation he’d spent three days working on. 

“Yeah, but,” Liam yawns, “she lives with girls.”

“Okay." Niall knows when it’s best not to continue having a sensical conversation with Liam. Plus, he knows that even though he’d stayed in last night after dinner with the Boston crew, Liam had been out with Louis. “What time did you get in?”

“Uh,” Liam rolls over on his side. “Not late. One something?”

“Okay, and it’s now four something." Niall holds out his phone, helpfully. “Please tell me Louis went home. Please tell me that you aren’t still actually drunk.”

“Not hungover or drunk, just tired." Liam sighs. “I’d promised Harry I’d DD and make sure Louis got home okay. He was at something, some reading I guess? At that bar we hate. The one with the weird beer and punny drink names.”

“Nah, it was his friend’s birthday. Xander?" Niall only knows because Harry had baked a cake, sent Niall roughly ten snapchats about it, including three videos in a row of him breaking the eggs one handed. “It was at that bar, but it wasn’t for a reading, I mean.”

Liam shrugs. “Same diff." He slides down so low on the futon that Niall’s sure he’s gonna end up on the floor any second. 

“Are you sure you don’t want any coffee, Li?" Niall takes another sip of his. Liam’s not really a coffee person, but he’s beyond bordering on fucking pathetic at this point. “We might have Red Bull?”

“Louis is bringing some Red Bull,” Liam, unsurprisingly, rolls off the futon entirely. Niall kicks at his foot, making Liam groan. “But he and I are sleeping, you got shotgun. We already called it for you.”

“Not sure that’s how it works, Liam." It’s for the best, though, because if the person sitting shotgun falls asleep then that gives Harry full DJ control. And Harry never picks music they all like.

“Niall,” Liam sounds pathetic, “can you hand me my pillow? There’s no pillow on the floor.”

“You gotta rally, buddy." Niall gets up, finishing his coffee before he hands the pillow to Liam, stooping down a bit to shove it under his head. “It’s only a four hour drive.”

“Can you drive us to Louis and Harry’s place?” Is what Liam asks next, and Niall sighs, looking up at the ceiling. He’s not going to get angry, he’s going to keep it together.

“They aren’t meeting us here? I’ve been waiting for them. Liam." Liam makes a noise that’s suspiciously like a snore. “Liam. I will take your pillow back.”

“Dooooon’t." Liam rolls over on his back, staring up at Niall. “No, we’re supposed to go pick them up.”

“That was not the plan before.” Niall wonders if he has time for another coffee. “We’d _said_....”

“Louis and I changed our minds last night." Liam reaches out, circling his hand loosely around Niall’s ankle. “We’re picking them up at 4:30.”

“Liam,” Niall sighs. “It already _is_ 4:30." 

“Oh. Well, we’re supposed to be there then.” Liam pulls at Niall’s leg. “You’re gonna drive there, right?”

In that moment, Niall’s phone goes off with texts from Harry.

_Pls say you are almost here and I didn’t drag L out of bed for nothing_  
_I think I’m bleeding_

Niall laughs. “Liam, you’re gonna owe Harry a dinner or something." He replies quickly, _Give him a pillow and tell him to chill for 10_

Harry’s able to respond with a string of emojis that involve a lot of violence before Niall puts away his phone, laughing. 

“Niall,” Liam stands up, looking like he knows he’s about to get punched, “did you load the car?”

**

“After Louis _accidentally_ ,” Harry braces his palms on the wheel to make air quotes, “hit me this morning, I was seriously questioning whether or not we should go, but now...”

“Now?" Niall glances in the backseat, where Liam and Louis are passed out on top of each other. It was a good call to let Liam bring his pillow. 

“Now it’s good." Harry shrugs, grinning as he changes lanes. “Traffic’s good, those two are asleep, and we get to play our good mix.”

“You do have a point." Niall reaches to turn up the volume on the Eagles song currently playing, Harry beating him to the punch from the control on the wheel. “Niiice.”

“Remember when we first made this?" Harry reaches out to poke at Niall’s thigh. “Eh? Boston.”

“Yeah, when you nearly ruined my dad’s Fleetwood vinyl and my life flashed before my eyes?" Back after freshman year, Niall had invited everyone to come visit him in Boston and Harry was the only one who’d been able to come despite being on the other side of the country. 

“I told you, that record player had an old needle." Harry sounds like he’s about to launch into his normal rambling argument, so Niall cuts him off.

“So what’s the plan?" Niall reaches for his coffee in the console, taking a sip and making a face. It’s cold now; he can’t wait to get there so he can murder some of the beers they’ve got in the cooler. 

“Well, Niall, sometimes football teams play games that are away at another school." Harry grins, the car swerving slightly when Niall shoves at his shoulder. “Heyyy.”

“I mean,” Niall turns up the volume even higher, glancing at the backseat again before leaning so he’s almost got his face pressed against Harry’s ear. “How are we gonna work it so those two fuckers drive home later?”

“Oh. _Oh._." Harry starts laughing, lowering his voice. “Good plan. I think if we get solidly blasted before the game even starts Liam’s responsibility will kick in.”

“That’s playing a dangerous odds game." Niall considers it; it’s happened before, just not on purpose. “We could try it. Louis will be a hard sell.”

“Yeah, well." Harry lowers the volume a bit, his eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror. Niall looks back, they’re still passed out. “Louis owes me.”

“But you can’t tell him that." Niall says it quietly. Harry nods, tapping his nose.

“So we’ll just play it the other way." Harry groans, hitting the brakes suddenly. “Ugh, looks like we’re hitting the game traffic now. Hand me my green tea?”

“It’ll be cold." Niall hands it to him anyway. 

“I can take it." Harry turns up the volume after he hands the travel mug back to Niall, singing along with the opening lines of ‘Satisfaction’. He points his fingers over the wheel and shakes his shoulders in what Niall guesses is his best imitation at some sort of Jagger dance. Niall laughs, waits until Harry’s looking to do it himself.

“Some of us are trying to _SLEEP_ ,” Louis yells from the backseat suddenly. Liam just groans.

“Aw, sorry Lou.” Harry turns up the volume some more. “Is that better?”

**

It’s a really great game, which bodes well for the season. It helps too that it feels like half the school showed up; their entire section is a sea of green. It’s the first game all year that Niall feels like he’s really having a good time. The fact that he’s wasted and they’re winning might have something to do with it.

“It was the rain last week,” Liam shouts, Niall taking the opportunity to steal his beer. His and Harry’s plan has been working out really well. “Hey, Niall.”

“What?" Niall grins. “You gotta sober up, Liam. You and Louis. Our drivers.”

“You have to drive us!” Harry throws his arms around Niall from behind, both Liam and Louis making faces. “We’re your Miss Daisies." 

“Please don’t say that, Harold." Louis pats at Harry’s head, then Niall’s. “We already said we’d drive your sorry asses home, don’t push it.”

“You’re the BEST." Harry’s still got his face pressed to the side of Niall’s and he’s hanging on him like he’s some overgrown koala. “Niall, aren’t they the best?”

“They are pretty great sometimes.” Niall tries to pull Liam in for a hug, Liam pushing back against him. “No, Liam, group hug, c’mon, get Louis.”

“LOUIS IS BUSY." Louis shouts, eyes still on the field. “Jesus, Niall, seriously, this is a good fucking game, I don’t wanna miss it.”

“Louis is having funnnn,” Harry says in Niall’s ear. “Don’t ruin it.”

“I’m gonna cut you two off soon,” Liam grins. “Getting sloppy.”

“Fuck you,” Niall untangles himself from Harry to launch himself on Liam, who starts laughing. 

“Yeah, Ni?" Liam slings his arm around Niall’s shoulder. He’s only paying half attention. “We’re 2nd and goal, c’mon buddy.”

“Nothing,” Niall sways a little, looking over at Harry who’s started dancing with the mom who somehow ended up next to them. “Just a good game.”

“Course it is." Liam squeezes at Niall’s shoulder. “Like I said, it’s a good bro weekend.”

“I should listen to you more." Niall means it; Liam can be the most wise of them all sometimes. Fuck, Niall really is drunk if he’s starting to feel emotional about Liam’s ramblings. 

“Duh, everyone should." Niall thinks that Liam’s trying to wink at him, but either he’s too drunk or Liam’s too bad at winking for it to make sense. Maybe both. “I’ve only been telling you that for years.”

“Fair enough." Niall’s not sure what he’s going to say next when the team scores, their entire side erupting in cheers. Harry herds them all into a group hug, Louis yelling something about how they’re all a bunch of fucks and he loves them. It’s nice, makes Niall feel less like there’s that anxious ball of worry sitting heavy in his stomach that something else is about to fuck everyone over. 

**

It’s too fucking hot in the library. It always gets like this around midterms and finals -- too many stressed out people crammed into every available space. But it’s the best place to go because it has, like, actual resources and like zero distractions. 

Except for right now.

Niall clears his throat again when the fuckface at the table where he’s sitting has his music on so loud that it’s bleeding through his headphones. And on top of _that_ , he’s one of those pen clickers. Pen fuckers, more like. 

He clears it again, louder. The guy still doesn’t even move. The girl on his left, on the other hand, clears hers. Good. He could use an ally in this war. Take down the music asshole. It doesn’t even sound like he’s listening to anything decent. But when he turns, the girl is actually glaring at _him_.

“Excuse me, I’m trying to concentrate?” She practically hisses, looking like she’s about to claw his eyes out. God, fucking midterms. 

“Me too,” Niall keeps his voice down even though now the dude across the table from them has a bitchface that looks like he’s about to throw his own hat in the ring. “But that dude is ruining it.”

“Yeah, and you jiggling your leg all over the place and being a fidgety asshole and moaning and groaning isn’t?" The girl throws up her hands when Niall shrugs. God. 

“Fine, I’m out of here." Niall gathers up his shit, throwing his books and notebook in his bag and hobbling away from the table; he was sitting there for so fucking long that his knee feels stiff and shitty. Fucking great.

Ducking into some stacks, Niall steps over someone sprawled out and leans against a shelf, pulling out his phone. He’s texting Harry before he can even think about it. 

_I WILL FUCKING MURDER A PERSON IN THIS LIBRARY_

The dots of Harry replying pop up before Niall can even lock his phone, his response coming quick.

_You’re here? What floor_

Fuck. Niall doesn’t even remember. He ducks his head around the corner to see. _3_ he sends back.

_Come to 4_  
_Lou and I got a study room_  
_Just us! It’s a midterm miracle!!!!!!_

_K_ Niall replies, opting for the elevator because he’s feeling like a lazy fuck. It only takes glancing at a couple of rooms before he finds theirs, both of them looking much less happy than they did when he saw them at breakfast on Sunday. Midterms do have a way of sucking happiness out of everyone, he supposes.

“Look who made it,” Louis grins, his pen cap sticking out of the side of his mouth. It looks disgusting. “Miss Congeniality.”

“You don’t look very happy,” Harry says much more diplomatically from behind his laptop.

“Some fucker was listening to his music too loud, and then this girl told me that I was the one ruining _her_ study experience with my fidgeting. Like, the actual fuck. My fidgeting is at least SILENT." Niall throws his bag down when he sits, reaching for his shit. His notebook’s only a little crumpled up from shoving it in there so quick.

“Niall, I’ve known you for many years, and yeah, it can get annoying." Louis shrugs, “but we’re all suffering now, and I can tune you out so I’mma be nice about it.”

“You mentioning how it’s annoying isn’t being nice, Lou." Harry points out, Louis flipping him off. “What? I’m just pointing out the obvious, chill.”

He sighs. 

“What are you working on?" Louis asks, after a moment of silence. “Science something, I know, but.”

“It’s just,” Niall flips the page of his textbook. It rips a little bit with the force of it. Fuck. “I took Aquatic Ecology thinking it’d be like, a total blow off. But it’s so fucking… _hard_.”

“That fucking sucks,” Louis says, at the same time Harry asks, “What’s that about?”

“Harry, like,” Louis laughs, “it’s aquarium shit. I know you’ve been with Niall before when he rambles on about it. It’s his second favorite after space bullshit.”

“Like I remember,” Harry mutters, rolling his eyes before looking up at Niall a second later. “Sorry, Niall.”

“It’s okay, like I remember half the stuff you say." Niall shrugs. It’s a real give and take of not giving much of a fuck. “And it’s not _just_ aquarium shit.”

“Close enough.” Louis’s already off it, Niall can tell. He kicks at Harry under the table.

“It’s like, studying ecosystems in water. So this first half of the class has been freshwater shit.”

“Like a lake." Harry grins. “Like a lake, right? I got it?”

“Yeah, like a lake." Niall can feel that he’s about to go off on a long explanation and no one has time for it. He turns to Louis. “What are you working on?”

“It’s for my Senior Capstone, like...Comm is bullshit, man." Louis bites at his lip. “I haven’t been doing enough for it, but oh fucking well, I gotta pay for it now.”

“That sucks." Niall doesn’t know what else to say, glances at Harry who’s buried back in his laptop and probably isn’t picking up anything significant. “It’s good you’re dealing with it, though.”

“Sure." Louis shrugs. Niall really needs to study, they all do, but. 

“Is no one going to ask me what I’m working on?" Harry asks, Louis groaning immediately.

“I already know, Harry. I’ve been living it. Not all of us have papers for days during midterms.”

“I only have three papers,” Harry tugs at the scarf on his head, making his hair go crazy. “And two in class midterms.”

“Which I still feel is unfuckingfair." 

“Shut up,” Harry laughs, sounding tired. “Anyway, and now I just need one more source for this Rauschenberg paper, but my interlibrary loan still hasn’t come in and JSTOR is being a little bitch and I think I’m going to drop out.”

“That feels like a solid idea,” Niall leans over, patting at Harry’s hand. “Just become a nomad. Fuck all this classes bullshit, I know how much you hate it. You never talk about how much you love it, ever.”

“Wander the world. Learn about culture that way." Harry nods, smiling slowly.

“Can both of you please shut up?" Louis sounds about as polite as Niall’s ever heard. “Because I will fucking murder you both and then I can finally study in peace.”

“That’s one way to get a study room to yourself." Niall kicks at Harry’s foot under the table, raising his eyebrows when Harry meets his. “And also, to end up on the local news.”

“I can write my own press release and all." Louis slams his hand on the table. It makes both Niall and Harry jump. “Now shut the fuck up.”

Niall tries to concentrate on estuaries for a moment, the only sound in the room Harry’s typing. It’s nice. He kicks at Harry again after a particularly loud burst of him hitting the keys.

“Heyyy,” Harry whispers. “Those are new boots. Stop.”

“I swear to GOD." Louis’s voice sounds very dangerous.

**

“STATE SUCKS,” Liam yells. What sounds like a hundred people start yelling it right after him. Homecoming weekend is always a fucking madhouse.

“You’re gonna ruin it,” Sophia says, trying to hold his head still as she puts a temporary tattoo on his cheek. 

“Sorry,” Liam says, right before he yells it again.

“No, wait, what?” Niall has to plug his ear to hear Harry, the lots already so crowded that cell service is spotty. “We’re like, left. There’s a pick-up with an American flag at the end of our row.”

There’s one of those every third row it seems, but it doesn’t matter. The call’s dropped again.

“I dropped a pin for them,” Sophia says. “Hopefully that’ll help. Hey, come here, it’s your turn.”

“I’m good,” he says, watching her and Liam take a selfie together, their matching tattoos looking fucking ridiculous. 

“I paid eight dollars for these.” They’re caught in a staring contest. Sophia puts her hand on her hip. “It you want to be on our flip cup team later, you have to have one.”

Niall looks from the beer pong table to the giant decal on their cheekbones. “Does it have to be on my face?”

“No,” she says, while Liam says, “Yes.”

He and Soph are still debating placement, Liam digging through the back seat to find cups, when Harry rolls up, a cup already in hand.

“Whatcha got there, Harry?” Sophia asks him, holding the tattoo to Niall’s neck and chuckling when he shakes his head. She sighs and sticks it on the back of his hand, reaching for a damp napkin. 

“Bloody Mary,” he says. “This lady gave it to me when I asked if I could cut through their tent. I told her she should come by later, play beer pong with us.”

“Is this your way of telling me I’m kicked out as your partner?” Niall asks, watching Sophia peel the paper off his hand. It does look pretty sick. “Your new teammate is some sixty year old alum?”

“Ruth was not sixty,” Harry says, looking annoyed. No one mentions that Zayn used to be Niall’s beer pong partner because Harry, even sober, has the coordination of a windsock. For a split second, Niall wonders if he’ll show up at their seats this week, even though he knows it’s a snowball’s chance in hell. And thank god for that, honestly. It’d probably just be a shitshow.

“C’mon, you’re up,” Sophia waves her hand, Harry bumping Niall out of the way.

“Right here,” he says, tapping the center of his forehead. Niall wonders just how many Bloodys Ruth gave him. Knowing Harry, he sat at that tailgate for at least half of the time he was lost.

“No,” Niall says, “I’m not playing with you if you look like that. I’ll wait for Ruth to get here and she can be on my team.”

“You’d be lucky to have Ruth,” Harry says. “Just put it on my hand, Soph. Not there, like off-center, down a little, more, yeah, there. That looks good, right?”

“Sure,” she says unconvincingly. The paper bends over the curve of Harry’s hand. It’ll probably look a lot better than Niall’s, set smack in the center of his hand.

“Oh no,” Liam says. “Babe, help!”

“Nope, that’s all you,” Niall says when Soph shoots him a look.

“Thanks for the help,” she says. “Here, Harry, just hold this for a few more seconds.”

“My hands are full.”

“Oh my god.” She grabs Niall’s free hand, putting it on the napkin over Harry’s tattoo. “Hold that.”

“Couldn’t’ve put your drink down?” Niall asks, wondering how many more seconds a few is. Three? Five? How long did she hold his on for? 

“You would’ve stolen it,” Harry says, taking a sip. “Please. I know you.”

That’s… fair enough. Niall looks over his shoulder, watching Sophia and Liam pour beer into the cups quickly so they won’t blow away. 

“Where’s Louis?” he asks, realizing he hadn’t shown up with Harry like he’d been expecting. “I thought you guys were coming over together.”

“I don’t know.” Harry shrugs, pushing Niall’s hand away so he can pull off the backing. It definitely looks better than Niall’s. “He wasn’t home yet, so.”

“Yet?” 

Someone in the distance starts a FUCK STATE chant. Niall has to strain to hear Harry, even though he’s standing right in front of him. “Sometimes he just… doesn’t come home. It’s fine,” he adds, “he’ll probably be here later.”

“Okay,” Niall says slowly. He wonders how often “sometimes” is, but Harry doesn’t seem open to further questioning.

“Hey, losers, the beer’s getting warm, let’s go!” 

“We don’t care if the beer’s warm, Liam,” Niall says, “we’re not the one’s who’re gonna have to drink it.”

Liam bounces one of the ping pong balls on the table. “Are you implying that we’re going to lose?”

Niall looks at Harry, who says, “That’s exactly what we’re saying, yes.”

“Well joke’s on you,” Sophia says, “because we’ve been practicing.”

Niall’s about to make a joke about how lame that is, only she sinks her first shot right in the center cup.

“Shit,” Harry says.

**

“What time are we going in again?” Harry asks, handing Niall another beer. 

“Later? Whenever everyone else starts going in, I guess, I hadn’t thought about it.” They’ve got a lot of time today; Niall doesn’t really care if they miss the homecoming bullshit that goes on before kick-off. 

“Okay,” Harry says, and then, louder, “WE GET NEXT.”

“Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough today, Styles?” Liam asks, sinking another shot. 

“SUCK IT,” Louis shouts, throwing his hands up in the air. He’d shown up eventually, just like Harry said he would. “Come on, Liam, let them go up against the reigning champs. They deserve a shot at redemption.”

He’d taken over for Sophia not long after he showed, and is doing even better than she had been. He’s apparently in that sweet spot, the exact right level of drunk to destroy everyone. 

“You weren’t even here for that, so your opinion doesn’t count,” Harry says.

Louis is too busy winning the game for him and Liam to reply. It’s sickening, how good a roll they’re on. Niall would be impressed if he and Harry hadn’t already lost in the quickest way possible. Twice.

“Okay,” Harry stands up, reaching out to help Niall to his feet. He cups his free hand around the back of Niall’s neck, getting close enough that their foreheads are touching. “We need to talk strategy.”

“Yes,” Niall agrees. “I think I should go first, because you do better when you have to rise to the occasion.”

“I do. Good plan.” Harry smells like beer and tomato juice. “Also I think we have to target Liam.”

“Like… throw things at him? There isn’t really a way to target him, this isn’t a card game.” 

Harry nods, making Niall’s head shake. “Right. Okay, so you’ll go first.”

“Any day now!” 

Niall’s strategy doesn’t help them, but Louis is rounding the corner into too drunk to play and Liam is far over the line, so the game turns into a slugfest.

“Re-rack,” Harry says. “No, Liam, you’re the only person who likes two triangles, do one triangle, three-two-one, yes, thank you.”

Niall’s shot bounces off the rim. “Fuck.”

Liam’s does the same, and then Louis says, “Liam, quick question. Can I take a bathroom break?”

“In… the middle of our game?”

“Why are you _asking permission_?” Niall yells. Louis flips him off.

“I guess so? Hurry up!” Louis, already jogging away, waves over his shoulder. Liam makes a face at Niall and Harry. “That was weird.”

“Should we all go?” Harry asks.

“Why, do you to have to piss, too?” 

“I don’t know, maybe!” Harry sounds nervous, craning his neck in the direction of the nearest porta potties. Niall’s sure that the lines are insane. 

“Do you think he’d notice if we played on without him?” 

“I’d notice,” Liam says, crossing his arms over his chest. “We are PAUSED.”

“Alright, Gamemaker, calm your tits, I was just checking.”

It feels like hours -- Niall finishes a beer and a half -- before Louis comes racing back, hand outstretched. Liam cheers as they high five.

“Guess who just shit in a porta potty?” Louis asks proudly. Liam, looking disgusted, slowly lowers his hand and wipes it on his jeans. “First time for everything!”

“That,” Niall can’t stop laughing, “that’s disgusting, bro.”

“No!” Harry shouts, startling Louis out of reaching for the ping pong ball. “Go find some Purell first. Louis. I’m not kidding.”

They stare each other down for a minute before Louis stalks away, heading towards the nearest tailgate that looks like it was organized by a mom. 

Liam breathes a sigh of relief. Niall claps Harry on the back. “Good call.”

**

_U guys home?_

Niall welcomes the distraction of Harry’s text. Even with midterms over, he’s got a fuckton of work this week.

 _Just me, why?_ he sends back. Liam’s out, supposed to be going from class straight to Sophia’s.

 _I’ll be there in like 5 minutes_ Harry says.  
_Maybe 10_  
_Depends_

Niall rolls his eyes at Harry’s onslaught of texts and gets up to unlock the door. He sits back down with with his book, pretending like he’ll get any reading done. He’s still on the same page when Harry comes in, dropping his messenger bag on the floor by the door.

“So I had Bernini today.” He’s out of breath. 

“You had what? Is that a thing?” 

Harry pauses for a second, his entire body going very still like he’s trying to convince himself not to strangle Niall. He sounds eerily calm when he says, “Yes. I’ve told you about it before.” 

“Oh, right, the death guy,” Niall remembers, “sorry. Sorry. Wait… isn’t that --” 

“YES,” Harry says, nodding, throwing himself on the futon, “my Zayn class.” 

“See, if you’d called it that I would’ve remembered it immediately.” 

“Right,” Harry says, clipped. “Well. We talked.” 

“You and Zayn?” Niall’s eyebrows go up and his stomach twists uncomfortably.

“Yes.” Harry sounds like he’s still thrown by the whole thing, too. 

Niall knows it’s a small class, but Harry hasn’t mentioned it since right after Zayn disappeared so he’d always assumed Zayn had… stopped going, or something. That he’d bailed on that, too.

“About what?” He can’t think of anything they could possibly have to say to each other. Or, no, he can think of plenty of things, but judging from Harry’s mood it doesn’t seem like he got kicked out of class for fighting. Not that Harry’s one to fight at all. That’s what makes it harder to imagine what they could’ve said to each other.

“He was late, right? So the only seat left was next to me, which was weird -- his hair’s like, gone now, did I tell you that? He buzzed it all off.” 

Harry hadn’t mentioned it, but Niall’d seen on Facebook. He nods for Harry to keep going.

“Anyway, we were starting to take notes and I guess his pen died because I heard him ask Gigi if she had an extra, but she didn’t because she only ever brings her iPad, and I have like, six pens in my bag so I figured what the fuck, right, and I leant him one and he said thanks.” Harry’s eyes are huge, his mouth hanging open like he still can’t believe it. 

Niall stares at him, waiting for the rest of the story. It never comes. “That’s it?”

“Yeah, I mean, he didn’t say it until the end of class, obviously, because our prof was starting the discussion and one time she kicked Matt out for talking while she was talking, but afterwards he tapped me on the shoulder and gave me the pen back and said thanks!” 

“That’s…” Anticlimactic, is the word Niall’s thinking of, but he says, “great, Harry.” 

“It feels like progress,” Harry says sincerely. 

It is, Niall realizes. None of them have spoken to Zayn in weeks, and at least he’s like. Making an effort, maybe. The most minimal of efforts possible, but like. It’s something. Which is better than nothing, right? And especially if he’s been seeing Harry on the reg, sitting in the same tiny room as him, probably going out of his way to avoid eye contact. 

“Sorry to interrupt your studying,” Harry says. “I just -- it felt important.” 

“No, please, obviously,” Niall waves his apologies off. “It’s a big deal.” 

Harry nods, looking at the wall, worrying at a loose thread on his jeans. Niall leans over, knocking his knuckles against Harry’s elbow. Harry blinks at him, smiling slowly. “Sorry,” he says again. 

“Shut up.” 

Harry laughs, rolling his eyes. “Are those star charts?” He reaches for Niall’s textbook, scanning the page. “Where’s the Harry Styles star that my aunt got me for my eighth birthday? This chart isn’t even accurate. I bet you paid eight hundred dollars for an inaccurate text.” 

“I’ll be sure to file a complaint with the physics department,” Niall says, watching Harry flip to the next page.

“Oh god, I thought this’d be fun but these aren’t even words.” Harry tilts the page so Niall can see. “This is seriously one of your electives? This is a fun class for you?”

“Listen, Mr. Bernini-Loves-Death --”

Harry touches his forehead, closing his eyes. “That is not what -- no. I see what you’re doing and never mind. You’re a jerk. We’re not doing this right now.”

Niall laughs as Harry flips back to the page the book had been on before setting it on the floor.

“I actually wanted to show you something,” Harry says. “I had an idea for costumes for next weekend --”

“No,” Niall says automatically, because every year Harry suggests something for Halloween and every year it’s the absolute worst fucking idea.

“C’mon, we could all do it, it’s a group one, look.” Harry pulls something up on his phone, passing it over. 

Niall stares at the picture, a bunch of mimes with Kiss face paint on. 

“French Kiss!” Harry sounds so proud. “Get it?”

“Please leave my apartment and never come back,” Niall says.

“Come on,” Harry punches him lightly in the arm, taking his phone back. “You have to admit it’d be good.”

“No, it would be the worst thing in my entire life. It’s terrible. TERRIBLE, HARRY,” he shouts, because Harry’s already wandered away, making himself at home as usual. “We’d be kicked out of the party immediately. Wouldn’t even get in the door!”

All he gets in response is the echo of Harry’s laughter.

**

“Harry, hurry the fuck up!” Louis shouts. “We will leave without you!”

“No you won’t,” Harry yells back. “Give me two minutes!”

Louis clenches his fist hard enough that the can he’s holding crinkles a bit. Harry’d said two minutes ten minutes ago. They’re all out here, sweating their balls off, waiting. Niall’s drunk already, but he’s not drunk enough that three dudes in full costume constitutes a fun party. This apartment’s a shithole to hang out in, anyway; they can’t even watch TV while they wait. 

“Told you we should’ve timed him,” Liam says, scrolling through his phone. Niall watches over his shoulder as he likes everything that goes by. Seems like Justin’s party is already in full swing.

“Alright, that’s it.” Louis knocks back the rest of his beer and then pushes up, making like he’s going to go drag Harry out of his room. 

“Sorry,” Harry comes flying out just in time, knocking into the wall with one of his wings, “I couldn’t find my magnifying glass. I’m ready now.”

“Thank fucking god,” Louis says. He reaches for the bottle of Jack on the table, pouring them each a generous shot. “Don’t know how your -- what the fuck are you supposed to be?”

“Tinkerbell, Tailor, Soldier, Spy!” Harry says, holding up his magnifying glass, turning so they can get a full view of the glittery wings he’s got on over a blazer. He goes so over the top for this shit it’s nuts. Meanwhile Niall’s wedged between Liam and Louis, both of them wearing the same costumes they’d bought at Walmart freshman year. 

“Is that from the Johnny Depp version of Peter Pan?” Liam asks. “I didn’t see that one.”

“Me neither,” Niall says, taking the shot glass Louis hands him. 

Harry makes an offended noise. “You read the book, Niall! _And_ said you liked it.” 

“Did I?” Niall shrugs before doing his shot. Louis, bless him, immediately pours him another.

“Alright, let’s go,” Liam says. “Sophia just texted, said it’s a madhouse already.”

“Niall’s not finished with his costume yet,” Harry says, sounding annoyed. He holds his shot glass out for Louis to pour him another. Niall switches on his camera, checking to make sure he hadn’t sweated off all his eye black waiting for Harry.

“No, I’m good,” Niall says.

“Your football isn’t deflated enough to be Tom Brady’s.” Harry tacks on a bratty smile that goes full-dimple when Liam cracks up.

“Yeah, well, when was the last time the Packers won a fucking Super Bowl?” Niall asks, following them to the door, Louis bringing up the rear.

“Like five years ago and they didn’t have to cheat to do it!”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Louis mutters. “Liam, don’t leave without me, I’m going back in for one last shot.”

“Louis!” Liam yells, but it’s too late. He’s already back inside.

**

An hour in, Niall’s regretting not following Louis back inside for that extra shot. Harry’s already fucked off, hanging out in some weird candlelit room with a bunch of other people in questionable costumes. The only people Niall’d recognized were Kendall and Cara, who were both in all black with candles strapped to their heads, claiming they were “cake.” Harry, at least, had found it hilarious. 

“I already said I’m fucking fine, Liam,” Louis is yelling, gesturing wildly enough that beer sloshes out of both of the cups in his hands. “It’s a party, she’s allowed to be here.”

They should’ve expected it, probably. Justin and his housemates are friendly with everyone, or at least are friends of friends of friends, so of fucking course Eleanor’s here. The whole goddamn school is. 

Liam had been the one to walk right into her, her and Max dressed as Bonnie and Clyde or something, Niall hadn’t been able to make it out over all the insane gestures and offers that they could just leave already.

“We’re not leaving, Christ,” Louis says. “Just. It’s fine. I don’t care.”

He does, though. Niall can tell by the way his knuckles are going white from how hard he’s holding his cup. It’s a miracle it hasn’t cracked yet. 

“Hey,” Niall grabs Louis by the hem of his shirt, “I saw Sel before, she said there’s beer pong in the garage.”

Louis says something but it’s too loud for Niall to hear.

“We’re going,” he points in the direction they’re headed, Liam nodding before turning back to Sophia. Niall knows those two are in a shitty position, seeing El more than Liam ever lets on. He doesn’t know how he keeps it bottled up. Probably the same way Harry never mentions seeing Zayn in class. It’s easier for all of them to pretend none of it’s happening. 

“Put our names in,” he tells Louis, pushing him towards the cardboard sign-up list by the wall. It’s even more crowded out here, stuffy too, with the garage door shut so the cops don’t have a reason to stop. Niall pushes his shirt up a bit, just trying to get a breeze on his skin. 

“We’re fucking eighth,” Louis says. “But that kid says it’s going fast. And he gave me these.” He shoves a cup into Niall’s hands. Whatever it is is nearly black. Niall takes a cautious sip. It tastes like grape and burns all the way down. By the time he’s finished, Louis is grabbing them seconds. 

It passes the time until their names are called, the two of them paired up against a couple of girls dressed as sexy soldiers, complete with plastic water guns. 

“If I give you my drink, can we have those guns?” Louis asks. It doesn’t sound nearly as friendly as Niall would expect it to.

“Maybe,” one of them says. 

“You have to win them,” her friend says, a glint in her eye.

“Oh,” Louis elbows Niall, eyebrows raised, that spark he gets that Niall associates with trouble, and not always the good kind, “a challenge.” 

That spark is the reason they’ve each got a water pistol full of beer by the time they find Liam again, dancing by himself in a corner. Louis shoots him in the face to get his attention.

“I just saw you!” Liam says, swiping his arm over his cheeks. “You ignored me.”

“I didn’t ignore you,” Louis says.

Liam nods. He looks like a bobblehead. A Payne Train bobblehead. They make those, right? If Niall remembers, he’ll order him one for Christmas. He can get a wrestling one and then just write The Payne Train on it with a marker, the same way Liam made his costume. 

“You did. I yelled at you but you just kept walking.” Liam shrugs, already over it. “Where did you get a gun?”

“From those girls.” Niall looks over his shoulder, like there’s a chance they might still be around. They’re not. It’s been awhile since he saw them. “The army girls.”

“Ten-four,” Louis says.

Niall shakes his head. “Ten-hut.”

“Yes.” Louis touches the muzzle of his gun to his nose. “That one.”

When he shoots Liam, the lettering on his chest bleeds a bit. Niall has no idea how it’s lasted this many years. Even Louis’s ninja costume is worn at the elbows and knees, tiny rips in the back from that year they’d had to scatter and he and Zayn had crawled under a fence and hid in some random family’s shrubbery for an hour.

“Bang,” Louis closes one eye, holding his pistol sideways as he hits Liam right in the heart. “You’re dead.”

“NOPE,” Liam yells, and the next thing Niall knows his gun’s been yanked out of his hand and Louis is shoving people out of his way as he runs, Liam hot on his heels.

“HEY,” Niall shouts after them, “THAT WAS MINE. I WON IT,” but they’re already gone.

He hasn’t been standing there long when Harry finds him. He looks drunk in a loose-limbed way, like the gentlest of shoves would send him tumbling to the floor. He might’ve already fallen, judging by how his hair’s slipping out of its bun, one of his wings bent at an awkward ankle.

Harry says something, Niall can see the way his mouth moves in the shitty lighting, only he can’t hear a fucking word. He nods and laughs in response. Harry’s eyes narrow. He says it again, louder, but it just blends into the noise. 

“What?” Niall shakes his head, pointing to his ear. Harry takes a step closer, but before he leans in Liam goes screaming by, shooting at them as he runs past them and straight through to the back patio. 

“You got it in my fucking EAR,” Niall yells after him, laughing, while Harry brushes beer off his shoulder.

Louis stops next to them, looking winded. “Oh, it’s the business fairy! Are you going to grant all our stock market wishes? Just magic a thousand bucks into our accounts like that?” He snaps his fingers.

Niall looks between them, feeling like he’s missing something. The tension’s ratcheted up a thousand percent and Harry’s got that tic in his jaw he gets when he’s trying really hard not to say something. Niall can see all of Louis’s teeth when he smiles. It’s terrifying.

“Hey,” he starts to say, wondering where the fuck Liam’s gone. Louis looks at him and then his eyes cut sideways, focusing on something behind Niall.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” 

Harry puts his hand on Louis’s arm. “Lou,” he says quietly, and _that_ Niall doesn’t need to hear to understand. He turns, looking where Louis is staring. 

“No,” Harry says, “wait --” but Louis is already gone, stalking outside to where Liam’s standing, hands crossed over his chest, looking uncomfortable as fuck. 

“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Harry says, following Niall who’s following Louis. It’s so much easier to hear outside. “Zayn’s here.” 

“What am _I_ doing here? It’s a fucking party, we come every year!” Zayn shouts. He’s dressed like a ninja, too. If Niall plugs his ears it could be any other Halloween. They’d always thought it was so funny, wearing matching costumes, the two of them planning sneak attacks, trying to scare people into dropping their beers.

Louis inhales deeply, like he’s about to go off, and Niall’s suddenly, overwhelmingly over everything. This loud, hot party. The shitty beer. Everyone’s ratty costumes. Louis and Liam and Zayn, all standing rigidly like they’re poised to fight. 

“If we leave now, they’ll never notice,” Harry says quietly. 

Niall breathes a sigh of relief. “Fuck, yes. Let’s go.”

**

 _What the fuck_ , Niall keeps thinking. He keeps saying out loud every few blocks as they jog back to Harry’s, too. “What the fuck.” 

“I don’t --” Harry pauses to swig from the bottle he’d grabbed as they fled. “I don’t know, Jesus. Just.” 

He passes the bottle over. Niall thinks it’s rum? Or brandy? Something brown that’s getting them drunk. They’re not in a position to care what the fuck it is.

“Yeah,” Niall says. The closer they get, the more they slow down, until they’re just walking lazily down the road. “We probably shouldn’t have --”

“Did _you_ want to stay?” Harry asks. 

Niall thinks about it for a minute before shaking his head. He really didn’t want to. He’s seen enough shitty fights this year. 

“Exactly.” Harry bumps him with his shoulder, too hard, maybe, because Niall goes stumbling into the street.

“Shut up, business fairy.” Niall shoves him. It’s easy to overbalance Harry when he’s laughing this hard. When he’s been drinking like this. Niall takes another drink; the more he has of it, the less he wants to spit it out as soon as he’s tasted it. 

“What the fuck are you going to do about like, rent?” he asks. He thinks maybe that’s what Louis had been yelling about before. Or maybe he’s just been wondering. Harry shrugs, righting himself, holding onto Niall’s arm for balance. 

“He paid the first third, so like… We’re only screwed for the very end of the year.” 

“Oh.” Niall and Liam each write their landlord a check for half each month. Harry’s way seems much easier. 

“What are we going to do about this?” Harry asks, holding up the bottle. It’s almost empty. Then Harry takes a swig and it’s actually empty. There hadn’t been much left when they’d stolen it, but still. 

Headlights appear in the distance. Shit. Niall knocks the bottle out of Harry’s hand. 

“Heyyyy.” 

“Shhh,” he says, grabbing Harry’s hand as they start to run, cutting between houses, away from the main road.

**

“HOME!” Harry kicks off his shoes while Niall beelines for the bottle on the coffee table, right where Louis’d left it. 

“This was good,” he says, taking a drink. The run’s left him winded and thirsty. The whole fucking night’s left him thirsty. He’s really glad they’re back here. “Leaving was a good idea, Harry. Like, the best.” 

“I know.” Harry goes tripping down the hallway towards his room and Niall follows, if only because Harry’s still talking. “I’m very smart. You should listen to me all the time.” 

Niall laughs. “No.” 

“Yes.” Harry flops back onto the bed, his face twisting up almost immediately. Niall laughs. “Ow. Crushed my wings.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“You just said I was smart.” 

Niall’s mouth hangs open for a minute, long enough for Harry to grin and start laughing. He twists around and for a second Niall thinks he’s going to shrug out of the wings, but he’s just digging his phone out of his jeans. It’s a second before music starts playing and then Harry’s holding his hand out. Niall passes him the bottle and then knees onto the bed next to him. He wonders if anyone’s thrown a punch back at the party. When he checks his phone, there’s no news, good or bad. He thumbs at the power button, considering.

“Do it,” Harry says, watching him. Niall levels him with a look. It’s too much, too mean. He puts it on do not disturb instead. Harry nudges him with his toes. “Boooo.”

“Don’t boo me.” Niall flicks his leg. There’s glitter on his pants. From the wings, Niall realizes belatedly. 

“I’ll boo you when you deserve to be booed,” Harry says. “Besides, it’s Halloween.” 

“Oh my god.” Niall shoves him, the two of them jockeying for more space. 

“If ever there were a day for booing, this would be it.” 

“Shut up.” Niall’s drunk enough that he can’t stop laughing, though. He can feel where Harry’s shoulders are shaking, pressed up against his. They sit like that for a long stretch, Fleetwood Mac playing low enough that Niall has to concentrate to pick out the song. 

“Knock knock.” 

“No.” 

“Knock knock.” 

“Harry.” Niall covers Harry’s mouth. 

“Knock knock.” 

Niall closes his eyes. “I swear to god.” 

Harry shifts and suddenly he’s sitting on Niall’s shins, his wings half hanging off his arms. “Knock --” 

“You look so stupid right now.” 

“-- knock.” Harry wriggles until the wings are gone, disappearing onto the floor. 

“Who’s there?” Niall asks, voice flat. 

Harry watches him and for a blessed minute Niall thinks he might give up. He believes it all the way up through Harry leaning forward, close enough that Niall goes cross-eyed watching him. Harry’s breath is hot on his cheek when he whispers, “Boo.” 

Niall laughs despite himself, choking out, “I will MURDER you.”

Harry doesn’t even wait for him to ask “Boo who?” before he’s laughing, tripping over the punchline while Niall shakes his head over and over, moving just enough that Harry’s lips keep brushing his skin. 

“Shut up,” Niall’s still laughing, too. He feels hot all of a sudden, like all the alcohol he’s ingested has rushed up to the surface or something. Harry’s a heavy weight on his legs, his fingers digging into Niall’s ribs. He’s still up so close that Niall can see he’s got flecks of glitter on his face, too. Niall touches his cheek, trying to rub some of it away with his thumb. It doesn’t work.

“Make me,” he says, his voice low. Niall’s still touching his face; he can feel the way Harry’s jaw moves under his fingertips when he speaks. When Harry licks his lips, Niall’s vision swims for just a second, all his thoughts going blank, like brainfreeze. He registers Harry leaning in, manages to tilt his chin for the right angle just before Harry actually kisses him. It seems like he’s still laughing, just a little bit, it rumbling through Niall.

Niall curls his hand around the back of Harry’s neck, changing the angle of the kiss, making Harry gasp. It’s such a small sound over the music, but it sends a shiver down Niall’s spine anyway. 

“Your knees are so bony,” Harry complains, shifting his weight in a way that has Niall closing his eyes. Jesus. He reaches out, helping Harry shove his dumb blazer off. “Is it because they’re bionic?” 

“What?” Niall blinks at him, watching Harry drop his jacket to the floor before he shifts off Niall’s lap entirely. The loss of his body heat is startling. “No. What?” 

Harry’s mouth’s red and shiny from when they’d kissed. Niall’s seen Harry freshly-kissed a million times before but this is different and his brain can’t quite process anything other than _Harry_ and _yes_ , like all his higher instincts are gone. He feels even drunker somehow, like the hands pushing up under Harry’s shirt aren’t Niall’s. They are, though, and Harry’s stomach feels just as warm as Niall’s sure his own skin feels. He spreads his fingers out, curling his hand around Harry’s side, following Harry’s body with his own when Harry tips sideways so they’re spread out on the bed. 

Niall registers the taste of sweat on Harry’s neck, the music swelling in the background as Harry rakes his blunt nails over the small of Niall’s back, digging in like he’s trying to get Niall closer to him. There’s nowhere else to go, they’re already flush against each other, legs tangled. Niall’s not sure when, exactly, his pants got unbuttoned, but they are, and Harry’s fumbling with his own fly.

“Here.” Niall helps him out, dragging Harry’s jeans over his hips, hearing harry sigh loudly, relieved, once they’re down. Niall presses the heel of his hand against his cock, feeling dizzy with everything. How hard he is. How drunk he is. How Harry’s got one hand down his boxers and the other reaching for Niall, curling around his bicep to pull him back in. Niall’s groaning even before they’re kissing, just from the bump of harry’s knuckles against his dick. 

“Yeah,” Harry says, nodding, and Niall doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about but he goes with it, kissing Harry while trying to shove his own boxers down. Their hands keep brushing but when Niall tries to shift away, just for a bit more room, Harry’s hand tightens on his arm so he gives up, stays right where he is. It’s better this way, if he’s being honest, making out with Harry while jerking off. Niall’s got no complaints.

“Wait,” Harry says, “what if…”

“What?” They’re too close together. Niall has to blink until there are the right number of Harrys, just the one of them knocking Niall’s hand away so he can wrap his hand around Niall’s dick. “Good?” 

Niall nods, feeling dizzy again. Harry’s got a firm grip, just right, and then he does something so their cocks are sliding together and Niall twists his hand in the sheets. “Fuck.” 

“Fuck,” Harry says, sort of like an echo, his breath coming harsh as Niall’s hips jerk. He feels like he’s having an out of body experience. Harry rubs his thumb under the head of Niall’s cock and Niall drops his head, groaning. This is so much better than when he does it himself. He’s never paid any attention to Harry’s hands before, but right now he’s never loved something so much. So fiercely. 

He bites Harry’s neck when he comes, listening to Harry curse and then go silent, his whole body tensing. 

“Shit,” Niall breathes out, rolling away. The room feels even hotter now. He wonders if he’s ever going to forget the way it felt when Harry’s started to come, Harry’s cock twitching against his own. Probably not. 

“Yeah.” 

Niall doesn’t bother opening his eyes as Harry fumbles around, pulling off his shirt and using it to clean up. The most effort Niall makes is to pull his boxers back up, but he doesn’t need his eyesight for that. Doesn’t need it for flipping Harry off when he laughs at him, either.

“I’m staying here,” Niall says, all the words slurring together. He’s exhausted and going all the way back to his place right now sounds impossible. 

Harry doesn’t say anything, but the mattress bounces as he flops back down, probably just as close to passing out as Niall is. The music seems so much louder now; Niall had forgotten it was playing at all.

He shifts, stretching his leg out until it’s touching a cool patch of the sheets. He’s still so hot. He wonders, distantly, if Harry’s burning up, too.

**

The apartment is silent when Niall wakes up. Silent except for Harry’s snoring. Niall kicks him.

“Shut up,” he says, climbing out of bed. It was a poor choice. Moving more than one limb at a time makes him realize how much everything hurts. Especially when Harry kicks him back.

“You shut up. This is my room.” Harry winces as he sits up, clearly feeling just as rough as Niall. 

“Jesus,” Niall says, staring at him. “You’ve got…”

Harry frowns, touching his face in the way Niall’s gesturing. He stares at his fingertips when they come away black. “Oh,” he says, and then, “ _Oh_.”

“Yup,” Niall says. He does not let himself stare at the smear of his eyeblack along the column of Harry’s throat. After a minute, standing feels like it’s taking too much energy. He sits back on the bed gingerly. It’s chance that his hand hits his phone, lost in the crumpled up duvet. Niall hits the home button, seeing the screen light up with notifications. “Shit.”

“What?” Harry asks cautiously. He’s trying to scrub his face clean with tissues. It’s mostly working.

“Liam,” Niall says.

“Oh god.” Harry pales, which is impressive considering how sickly he was already looking. “Is he -- are they -- did --”

“I don’t know.” Niall pinches his lip between his fingers, trying to read. Most of it is incomprehensible. Louis has been texting them the middle finger emoji over and over for the past… far too long. He texts _???_ back.

“Oh no,” Harry sounds horrible, voice muffled. “Help.”

When Niall looks up, Harry’s leaned over the side of the bed, trying to fish his phone off the floor. Niall reaches out, his hand hovering over Harry’s ankle, but he hesitates for too long, because Harry says, “Got it,” and then, “Oh. It’s dead.”

The phone hits the floor with a thump. Harry sighs heavily. Niall feels the same way. He remembers Louis’s hands, clenched into fists outside the party. How Zayn’s eyes had been narrowed, like they always were when he was about to say something unnecessarily cruel. Liam, right behind Louis, chin tilted. Niall hadn’t wanted to stay for whatever was about to happen, but right now, not knowing what had gone down feels just as horrible as the dread he’d felt waiting for someone to say something.

“Here,” he says, chucking his phone across the bed. Harry makes a pitiful sound when it lands a foot away from his hand. Niall starts slowly collecting his clothes while Harry reads through all the texts from last night. 

The sound of his phone vibrating is loud enough to scare him a little. 

“Louis?” Harry asks. “Where are you? What happened? No, I’m not dead, why would you -- stop yelling, Jesus, just tell me where you are. Why didn’t you come in? What do you _mean_ it’s gone?”

Harry sits up with a purpose, his face a mask of determination. He’s out of bed quickly, though, much quicker than Niall had managed, and he actually trucks it out of the room like there’s no turning back. 

“No,” Niall can hear him saying, “don’t go anywhere. Louis. _Louis_.”

Niall’s moving gingerly enough that he misses the middle bit, only getting to the door in time to see it swing shut behind Louis.

“Hours, Harold,” Louis says. “Hours.”

“Okay, well, I’m right here so you don’t need your phone anymore.” Harry takes Louis’s phone from him and hangs up. “What happened?”

“Where’s Liam?” Niall looks around the room like he might’ve missed him. It’s definitely empty, though.

“He’s dead, like the weak piece of shit he is. Died on the sidewalk. Wouldn’t even help me bust down the door.”

“Why would you… Never mind,” Harry says, touching his forehead like his fingertips are the only thing keeping his brain inside his skull. “Do you --”

“Yeah,” Niall says, already reaching out to take his phone back from Harry. He notices a spot of glitter on his own fingers. Jesus. That shit is everywhere. “We’ll…”

He doesn’t know what the end of that thought is. Be okay? Talk soon? It doesn’t matter because Harry’s nodding. 

“Yeah. Text me when you get home?”

“Or from jail, when I’ve bailed Liam out.”

“He’s not --”

“I know.” Niall heads for the door. “It was a joke.”

Sure enough, Liam’s slumped against the side of the building, feet kicked out. He looks harmless; it’d be hilarious if Niall didn’t feel like such shit. 

“Hey.” He kicks Liam’s foot. “Get up.”

“Louis, no, they’ll call the cops on us.” Liam frowns when Niall pats his arm, but at least he opens his eyes this time. “Niall!”

“Yeah, come on, buddy. You can’t sleep out here.” He helps Liam to his feet, using momentum to aim them towards their apartment. 

“I didn’t want to,” Liam argues, “but Louis lost his key.”

“Ah,” Niall says. That explains… some things. He doesn’t have the energy to ask any of the other questions that he has. The air’s cold, the sky a weird gray color. Niall realizes he doesn’t know what time it is, if it’s six or ten or fuck knows when. 

He concentrates on holding Liam up, their heads ducked against the wind as they trudge along. He doesn’t think about the party or Harry or anything other than putting one foot in front of the other. The walk home feels twice as long as normal.


	3. Chapter 3

“Okay, Liam." Niall takes a deep breath. He has a lab report to work on, a bunch of angry texts from Jade about how he’s fucking her over on his part, and a headache among roughly infinity other things, but Liam’s so upset that Niall knows he has to at least try one more time. “Explain it to me again.”

“I already _did_." Liam tosses the controller on the table, knocking over an O. It lands with such a loud thud that makes Niall wince. Liam has explained; or, he’s sketched out what happened the best he possibly can from what he remembers. Which isn’t much. Just the usual, can you believe this shit Zayn pulled, Liam is betrayed and Louis is pissed.

“I know you did, but I guess I don’t get it." Liam raises his eyebrow and opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but Niall shakes his head. “No, I mean I get it, but.”

“But what?" Liam sounds confused. 

“How was it any different from before?” Niall catches himself before he starts chewing at his thumbnail. “With Zayn. I mean, was there anything new, or just the same old shit where everyone is pissed off?”

“Well I guess if you were there, you’d know." Liam doesn’t sound angry, is the really terrible thing about it. It’d be easier if he did. Instead, he sounds honestly disappointed that Niall didn’t want to stick around for yet another shitty fight that goes nowhere and makes everyone feel worse. That Niall and Harry shouldn’t have left and --

Well. Yeah. 

“Niall? Bro, I’m not really mad at you.” Liam reaches out and squeezes his shoulder, jolting Niall back out of his thoughts. Which is fine. Things are fine. Harry’d just texted him earlier, something about how Louis won’t shut up about the party; or, at least what Louis can remember of it. At least they’re in the same boat in that regard. It’s not anything different from usual. Or maybe it is and everything’s fucked. 

“I guess I just didn’t want to deal with the same thing again,” Niall sets his laptop on the floor carefully, looking down and not at Liam as he talks. “Didn’t seem like it was going to end any different.”

Liam doesn’t say anything for a moment; when Niall finally looks over at him he looks thoughtful.

“I guess I sort of hoped it would end different." Liam makes a sound that’s almost a laugh, “Or at least, Lou or I could get in a punch or two.”

“That’d be a nightmare for me to deal with, Li, sorry." Niall makes his eyes as big as he can, pouting. “ _Niall, I punched my_ brother, _my brother Zayn._ ”

“Shut the fuck up." Liam actually laughs this time. He leans forward, grabbing his controller before fishing the other one from under the futon. “Game?”

“Lab report." Niall shakes his head even as he’s taking it from Liam. “Like, I can’t do more than half an hour, tops.”

“That’ll be just enough time for me to murder you, cool." Liam sprawls out, knocking his knee against Niall’s. “This is the scene of your murder, Niall.”

“I can’t believe I’m gonna die in this shithole." Niall waits for Liam to start the game, shooting Liam in the head as soon as he does. “Oh no, my finger slipped.”

“Fuck you, asshat." Liam starts it over again. “You know,” he starts.

He doesn’t say anything else, and Niall’s not sure how long goes by before he realizes Liam never finished his sentence. It’s nice, the mindless shit that’s distracting.

“I know what?” Niall asks. It’s another level before Liam answers.

“Oh." Liam doesn’t speak for another minute. “I don’t know, I guess I was just going to say that it’s good you and Harry, you know, left.”

Niall doesn’t look at Liam, but he does almost get killed because it feels like his fingers stop working for a moment. “Fuck.”

“I just mean,” Liam keeps fucking talking, “for how it ruined the night, you two were smart. Did you go somewhere else or just drink and pass out at theirs, anyway? You never said.”

“We just….” Niall trails off, pushing his thumb up on the control. Liam takes the bait, Niall going down almost immediately. “I can’t remember.”

“Fuck yessssssss." Liam tosses his controller down, doing his dumbshit dance he always does when he wins. “What did I TELL YOU.”

“You told me you were going to murder me, Li." Niall grabs his phone. It’s still only texts from Jade, all ranging from _Wtf happened at that party_ to _I’m in the library and if you are doing anything other than your part I’ll cut off your other part_. Jade apparently didn’t get the midterms-are-over memo. When did this year get so fucking hard?

“I did, and then I _did_." Liam grins, stopping his dance before heading for the kitchen. “Gonna get a beer, want one?”

“Yeah,” Niall says automatically, as he texts Jade that he’ll meet her in ten. “I mean, no, sorry Li.”

“More for me." Liam shrugs, coming out with a bottle in each hand. “And Niall, don’t think you can get away with making fun of me for not remembering shit when you don’t even remember what you and H got up to.”

Jesus. Niall’s headache just got one hundred times worse. He shoves his shit in his bag, not even bothering to turn off his laptop before he closes it. 

“Deal,” he says to Liam, who’s already sprawling out with a beer in one hand and the other resting on his stomach as he scrolls through the channels. “We just won’t talk about it anymore, then.”

“Talk about what?" Liam laughs, his eyes not leaving the screen. “Hey, tell Jade I’m sorry though, I think she was there at the party and Soph told me I said some really inappropriate things I shouldn’t have.”

“Great. I’m gonna have a great time." Niall closes the door on his way out. He looks at his phone again, the only new text a middle finger emoji from Louis without context. Business as usual then. 

**

“You’re gonna be fine!” Sophia’s voice sounds like it’s coming from behind Niall even though she’s in Liam’s room. “Just, hold on.”

“Hold on? I’m running fucking late!” Niall looks down at the tie he had on that Sophia had rolled her eyes at before nearly choking him to death yanking it off and running off to Liam’s room for a “better option.” 

Sophia reappears, and when she sighs Niall can hear how hard she must be rolling her eyes. He turns just in time to see the end of it, a blue striped tie dangling from her fingers.

“Your interview is across campus and it doesn’t start for an hour. And a _half_. So shut up." She walks over and pops Niall’s collar before he can stop her, threading the tie around his neck.

“Soph,” Niall can’t help but laugh a little bit as he bats her hands away, “I am able to tie a tie.”

“Technically, you could call it tied." Sophia grins, raising an eyebrow. “It was a very technically tied tie I just saw a few minutes ago.”

“C’mon, Soph." Niall turns back to the mirror, meeting her eyes there as he takes his time and tries to be more careful about it. “Okay, maybe this one is better.”

“Blue works for you, duh." Sophia looks like she’s reaching for his hair so Niall ducks out of the way, Sophia laughing. “C’mon. I wish you’d let me fix your hair color.”

“It’s mostly like,” Niall shrugs, fucking it up. Jesus. He takes a deep breath, starting the knot over. “It’s mostly brown at this point.”

“Niall, you’re like, two months, _tops_ , from frosted tips." Niall doesn’t move quickly enough this time and Sophia’s hand pats at the top of his head. “Maybe like, six weeks. Your frosted tips are due in six weeks, Niall. They’re due any day now.”

“Fine. Fine." Niall catches her eyes again in the mirror, waits until she’s paying attention before saying, “you can bleach it again." 

He grins at her exaggerated groan.

“I refuse. You use _two-in-one_ shampoo, Niall. That’s like barely a shampoo. That’s like sandpapering your hair." Sophia looks so offended that it settles Niall’s stomach a little more. 

“Alright, we’ll table this for later. Hey,” Niall tightens the knot; it looks pretty decent, he thinks. “This isn’t one of your and Liam’s sex ties, is it?”

There’s enough silence and enough wide Sophia eyes in the mirror to set Niall off laughing hard.

“Niall!”

“I fucking knew that Liam didn’t sit still enough for Louis to do that to him, I fucking knew it." Niall laughs when he remembers Liam’s bright red face and the red welt around his wrist. “But seriously though, not this one, right?”

“That…” Sophia has her face covered, her voice coming out muffled. “No. Not that one.”

“Thank Christ." Niall pokes his finger gently at her hand until she lowers her arms. Her face is bright red. “C’mon, I’m shitting bricks, I gotta loosen up somehow.”

“Aren’t you a master by now?" Sophia reaches out and grabs a hold of his tie; for a brief, terrible moment Niall can picture his own funeral but she just straightens it, making a satisfied noise. “Isn’t this like, your last one?”

“Yeah, but,” Niall spins Sophia around, shuffling her out of his room and down the stairs. “This is the one I actually want?”

“Oh right,” Sophia’s already near the front door, rooting around in her bag for something. “The big one?”

“Yeah." Niall takes a deep breath. “The big one.”

It’s really fucking big, if he can get this internship -- it’s for a huge engineering science firm whose hire rate after graduation is one of the best. Plus, it helps that they’re nationwide so Niall might have a lot of choices come spring. 

What doesn’t help is that this entire semester has been an epic shitshow and Niall hooked up with the one fucking normal thing he had left. He knows that Harry hasn’t been avoiding him just as much as he hasn’t been avoiding Harry; it’s just been so fucking busy and he sure as fuck isn’t saying...whatever needs to be said over text. 

It’s only been two days. It feels longer.

“Niall?” Sophia’s standing now, holding out a pack of gum. “Here, I picked up your fave when I stopped for some trail mix earlier.”

“Soph, thanks,” Niall feels a little bit of the knot unravel in his stomach when he gives her a quick hug. “You’re good here? I’m using Liam’s car so --”

“Yeah, he told me it’d be longer." Sophia holds up her finger. “Don’t get excited, Liam’s cooking tonight.”

“So hot dogs. Hey, Soph--” Niall shrugs. That’s fine. He’s about to see if he can convince Sophia to make cookies to celebrate his interview when his phone goes off in his pocket. “Hold on, it might be --”

_Heyyy, do you have time right now? For a chat? I have a couple hours before my reading tonight_

The knot is right back in Niall’s stomach. Fucking excellent.

“It’s just Harry.” Niall thinks he keeps his voice even enough, texting Harry back quickly. “You’ll make me cookies, right?”

_Can’t. The BIG interview. When is your reading done? I can do after_

“Only because I want to eat them too, Niall. You’re gonna kill it." Sophia’s already on her way into the kitchen when Harry texts back.

_Not till like, late late. Midnight or after. You have your early tom right?_  
_Also you will do GR9!!!_

Niall takes a deep breath and waits until he’s out in Liam’s car before he glances at the clock, texting Harry back. 

_Yeah, can’t miss it either maybe tom?_

It’s not until he’s willing his legs to stay still outside of his interview that Harry responds, right before Niall was finally going to silence his phone completely.

_Y we’ll figure it out. Unless you want to come to my reading??????_  
_Don’t respond with something mean Ni I do have feelings_

Niall laughs, earning a shitty look from the guy across from him. There’s no way they’re going to hire a douche like that. He feels better already.

_Fuck u nerd alert I am very nice_

**

Niall doesn’t trust it.

His interview goes great, Liam and Sophia actually leave cookies for him, and his stats quiz in the morning ends up being easy. It’s such an unusual string of good things happening all in a row that by the time Harry texts him in the afternoon, his thumb is already bleeding from how much he’s been biting at the nail. Just. Something has to give. 

_U home?_ Harry’s sent, along with an emoji of a house that looks nothing like their apartment followed by a string of other nonsense. Sometimes Niall longs for the days when Harry felt he was above emojis and refused to use them.

 _Yeah done for the day_ Niall sends back, doesn’t really care if it was too quick or not quick enough. He’s done with this shit. 

_Liam’s at class_ He adds afterward. Harry doesn’t reply. 

Probably because he’s already knocking on the door; Harry does sometimes have issues with texting about how he’s coming over without much warning. Or texting that he’s coming over at all.

“Come in!” Niall yells from the futon, because the fact that Harry’s knocking at all is fucking weird as shit. “Sorry I forgot to send you an invitation, Mr. Styles.”

“I was trying to be polite." Harry has an odd look on his face; even when he’s dropping his bag and coat in a pile on the floor and sitting on the other end of the futon from Niall. 

Niall snorts. “Okay." He shrugs, turning his head to take in Harry’s profile; how he’s reaching up to tug at his beanie while worrying his lip between his teeth. “Are you --” Niall starts, not sure what he’s even about to ask.

“I talked to Zayn today,” Harry blurts out, his eyes wide when he looks at Niall. “Like, after class.”

“Oh." Niall tries to realign his thoughts; he wasn’t really prepared for a Zayn talk. Yet another Zayn talk. “Okay.”

“It was? Sort of? Um." Harry turns and twists his knee in a way under himself that makes Niall frown without realizing as Harry faces him; Niall shifts himself so that it’s easier to meet Harry’s eyes.

“Okay." Niall says again, stretching his arm across the back of the futon. “So who...talked first?”

“Well,” Harry never can answer a question with just one word. “So this week and next week we’re giving these presentations, right? Mine is on The Ecstasy of Saint Theresa, it’s actually going to be great, I should show you --”

“Harry, Harry." Niall stretches out his hand to poke at Harry’s shoulder. “Zayn.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Harry grins at him, his cheeks a little flushed like he gets when he’s stressed, and Niall pokes him again until it seems like his shoulders give out a little bit. “Zayn’s was on the Altieri Chapel? And I’m not gonna get into what it was _about_ about --”

“Which is why you just told me what it was about, right." Niall nods, coughing to cover up the deep breath he takes.

“Fuck you." Harry grins again, his face relaxing into something more serious. “But it was good, Niall. Like really good. I don’t know, it was the most Zayn I’ve seen him? In a while?”

“Is he still Zayn?" Niall hadn’t realized how bitter he really felt until he hears how he voice sounds when it comes out. “I keep waiting for him to change his name on Facebook, or something. He’s Zaynye now. He’s Zeezus.”

“Yeah." Harry knocks his shoulder into Niall’s hand this time. “I get it. And I guess I hadn’t realized how, like, it had been even longer since before...I don’t know, before this whole...semester that I’d seen him that way?”

“I…” Niall meets Harry’s eyes, wonders if it’s something he’s been not saying to Louis just as much as Niall hasn’t been saying it to Liam. That maybe all this shit hasn’t been so sudden. 

“I get what you mean." Niall says, Harry nodding so hard that Niall’s sure he’s gonna have a headache.

“So it was good, and then after we were the last two gathering up our shit." Harry pauses, looking down before he continues, “I tried to take my time.”

“Harry." Niall shifts to stretch out his leg better. He feels stiff.

“Yeah, it was dumb. But he asked me. If I thought he did okay." Harry blinks a couple of times, shaking his head like he’s still in shock. “I said yeah, he did great? I don’t know, he smiled and said thanks.”

“Was that it?" Niall gets it this time; gets why it was a bigger fucking deal than just Zayn fishing for a compliment. 

“Mostly. He said that he must have missed me at the party. That part,” Harry sighs, and if Niall wasn’t living it too he’d laugh at how deep it sounds, “that part wasn’t so nice and was more like Zayn 2.0.”

“Well, nothing gold can stay, Harry." Niall digs his elbow into the back of the futon, trying to crack his shoulder. It doesn’t work.

“Niall, did you just quote a _poem_ at me?" Harry looks delighted, crowding closer to Niall suddenly in a way that before Halloween wouldn’t have meant anything. And Niall’s not sure it means anything now other than he has a new working knowledge of what it feels like if Harry was just a little closer. 

“Is it from a poem?" Niall shrugs, laughing at Harry’s disappointed look. “Harry, c’mon, I do pay attention sometimes. Plus, I live in the world.”

“You listen to meeeeee." Harry flops back until he’s sprawled out even more, his knee just lightly pressing into the side of Niall’s thigh. When Niall glances down, Harry’s looking in the other direction entirely, and Niall can see how tense his jaw is when he speaks again.

“We’re good, right?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment, and Niall doesn’t stop looking at Harry not looking at him. It could mean a million things, really. It means one thing. 

“I think so." Niall waits for Harry to look at him. It takes a moment. “Shit happens, and that wasn’t….”

Harry nods, blinking slowly. “I mean, it wasn’t shit. I wouldn’t qualify it as shit.”

“I don’t do shit I’m not into, so." Niall hesitates a moment before pushing his leg so it presses against Harry’s. Not because he wants Harry to jerk him off, but because he’d do it anyway and he wants to. 

“It’s been good to have this thing that’s not always a mess?" Harry’s speaking slowly, his eyes still meeting Niall’s. “And that didn’t make our friendship messy. Well…”

He winks, a laugh escaping like he can’t help it. Niall wants to fucking punch him. It feels pretty great, actually. 

“I’ve never, you know." Niall doesn’t know how to say it; he’d never really thought he’d be here, with Harry. It’s weird, how when he looks at how Harry’s still biting his lip he thinks that if it happened again it wouldn’t be a big deal.

“Me neither." Harry’s eyes drop down to Niall’s mouth like he’s thinking the same thing. “I don’t know, Niall. I’ve been thinking about it for a couple days, and I don’t have a like, speech prepared or anything, but.”

“Oh no, no speech? What a sad thing to hear." Niall ducks out of the way when Harry tries to punch him while he’s half laid out. “No _speech_ , now that’s the worst thing that’s happened this year.”

“Just for that, I’m practicing my presentation on you later, asshole." Harry laughs. “But seriously, I guess...I don’t really have anything to say because it didn’t change anything for me? Either way.”

“Me neither." Niall says quickly, shifting just enough that he can look at Harry and he’ll know he means it. “Either way.”

“So." Harry tips his head back, knocking his knee against Niall’s leg. “We’re….in agreement to be not really in any agreement?”

“I guess?" Niall can’t help the way he exhales; he didn’t realize he was holding his breath a little, just enough that his lungs almost ache. 

“Is this where Liam would tell Louis they’re still best friends no matter what?" Harry stands up, stretching his arms over his head slowly. “Share a beer and use a knife to become blood brothers?”

“Get me my own beer and don’t come near me with a knife." Niall calls out to Harry when he makes his way toward the kitchen. “And I hid some cookies in the freezer.”

Niall leans his head back and closes his eyes, listening to Harry bump around the kitchen while mumbling something to himself. 

“There’s only three left, so I’m eating one to make it fair." Harry calls out, then, “Oh fuck, that is _cold_.”

Sometimes, Niall thinks, there is justice in the world. That maybe things aren’t so fucked, after all. 

**

“You’re late, we have to --” Niall stands in the doorway, blocking Louis from shoving his way in. “Why are you dressed like you’re running a commune in the 60s after draft dodging?”

“Shut the fuck up, Harry and I went to the Goodwill today." Louis rolls his eyes, finally ducking down under Niall’s arm he’s got braced in the doorway. “Because someone couldn’t go with him.”

“I had to finish a paper so I could go out tonight." Niall shrugs. He’d figured that Harry would have just hit up one of his other friends before Louis. Besides, Harry’d been over to hang out Thursday because he was helping Liam with a paper and even showed up for Bye Day night dinner, so Niall doesn’t think he really missed him that much. 

“Niall, please, tomorrow is _Sunday_." Louis readjusts the cuffs on his jacket.

“Yeah, and I have another paper to write then. Is that an American flag patch on your sleeve?" Niall pushes at Louis’s arm. “Seriously, this is someone’s grandfather’s army jacket, Louis.”

“And now it’s mine." Louis rolls his eyes, striding over to the coffee table and grabbing the beer Liam had left out earlier. He makes a face after he takes a swig. “This is fucking stale.”

“And yet you’ll finish it." Niall opens the tiny closet near their door, grabbing his jacket and shrugging it on. “Aren’t we already running late?”

“Chill, Niall. This shit never starts on time." Louis sets the empty bottle down. “Harry bought you a shirt, by the way. I wasn’t supposed to ruin the surprise, but I’m a goddamn good friend to you.”

“Oh." Niall opens the door and waits for Louis to go out first, locking it behind them and shoving his keys in his pocket. “I’ll try to act surprised.”

“I’m not sure which one, by the way." Louis starts cutting along the line of trees that’s the best shortcut to downtown, makes it a ten minute walk instead of thirty. “He bought a lot of shit, a lot of interesting patterns and fabrics. I’m just giving you fair warning.”

Niall laughs. “Thanks." The leaves are crunching under their feet and he looks down carefully as they near the edge of the wooded area; Liam tripped once and Niall had to hold his hand while he got stitches. “Louis, what are you -- oh for fuck’s sake.”

“What?" Louis says from where he’s half shadowed by a tree, drinking out of a flask. “I’ll share, Niall.”

“There are going to be drinks there,” Niall backtracks anyway, taking the flask when Louis holds it out. He can smell that it’s Jack already. 

“There’s a hidden pocket in here." Louis shrugs, grinning after he puts it away and shaking the lapel of the jacket. “Harry bet me ten dollars it wouldn’t fit. So now I’m ten dollars richer and I could bring this along.”

“Win win.” Niall slings his arm around Louis’s neck and steers him back in the right direction. “It’s good you went out with Harry anyway, he was whining last night how he hasn’t seen you much.”

It was less of a whine and more of him testing the waters of what Liam would say, Niall knew from the conversation he and Harry had over text earlier in the day. It’s not that Louis is a growing concern like he was, not at all. But Niall knows that Harry sees more than he says to anyone else. 

Liam didn’t take the bait anyway, just launched into a long story about how Louis accidentally punched him when they’d gone out for Thirsty Thursday. 

“Ah, Harold." Louis snorts, ducking out of Niall’s grip and pulling out the flask again before they get fully on the street. “Codependent Harold.”

He’s smiling when he offers Niall another drink, shrugging when Niall shakes his head. They’ll be at the concert soon enough. 

“Also I heard you hit Liam, so thanks for that." Niall groans when he sees the line outside the venue. “Shit, do people even care about this?”

“I did _not_ hit Liam, for fuck’s sake. Is he still being a baby about it?" Louis kicks at Niall’s leg when they reach the end of the line. “And please, it’s like five different bands in this shithole town on a no game Saturday, of course people will care.”

“I guess." Niall goes with Louis every year, the closest thing they get to a music festival around town. Harry’d gone once, when they were Freshmen, but that was still when they were all in the phase where anywhere Louis wanted to go was clearly always the best option. 

Louis has that way about him, Niall supposes, watching him yell something to someone up the line that he knows. He and Harry are more used to it now, although Niall knows there are still times that Harry gets swept away by something Louis says or does. Still times that he does. Liam’s a bit of a flipped switch on it, used to hate Louis and scowl in the very beginning whenever Niall would drag him along. 

“You know,” Louis’s got his attention back on Niall, “I really didn’t hit Liam on purpose, you know? I wouldn’t do that. I’m a good fucking friend.”

“I know that." Niall makes a face at Louis, Louis automatically making one back. It’s all so different now. Minus the Zayn stuff, it’s like, better. 

“Good, don’t want you to think I’m a piece of shit beating up my friends, or,” Louis widens his eyes, “my _best_ friend.”

“No one thinks that, Louis." Niall laughs, knows he can’t get away with calling Louis out on the sentimental tone to his voice. Niall knows that he’d never say it, but Louis has a fucking giant soft spot for Liam. 

“No?" Louis gets a sharp look on his face. “Don’t think that’s an all-inclusive statement.”

The line starts blessedly moving. Niall can’t wait to get inside where it’ll be too dark and too loud to have a real conversation, where it’ll be like any other year with Louis. He’s already made Liam promise he’ll drive their inevitably hungover asses to the diner in the morning for breakfast. 

“It’s inclusive for what matters, anyway.” Niall reaches in his pocket for his wallet, fishing out his ID. He almost grabs his fake one by mistake. “I gotta get rid of this, it’s been years now." He flashes the fake to Louis when Louis looks down.

“Yeah, don’t think you’d pass for 25 now, little babyface." Louis takes Niall’s wallet, pulling out the fake and holding it up to Niall’s face. “I can’t believe this worked for three years.”

“Well we can’t all look like the after of an anti-drug poster,” Niall ducks when Louis takes a swing at him. “I’ve got chest hair now, Louis.”

“If I can use a pair of tweezers to easily remove everything you’ve got, is it really considered chest hair?" Louis hands his ID to the bouncer when they get to the door, smirking at Niall.

“So philosophical Louis,” Niall grabs his wallet and pulls out his correct ID, holding it up, “if I killed you tonight, would anyone care?”

“Just for that,” Louis yells as they get in the doorway, the place already hot and crowded, “I’m not buying you a beer with my Harry money.”

**

“There you are!” Louis shoves his way back to his position next to Niall on the balcony; they’d managed to snag a good area early on in the night and have been taking turns holding court whenever they needed to get more drinks. Niall had expected Louis to ditch him by now; he’s seen some of Louis’s shithole crew around, Calvin and Oli and all them, but aside from a few minutes here and there, Louis has hung out all night. Niall almost wishes that Liam and Harry were around to see it. 

“Took you long enough." Niall looks at the drink when Louis hands it to him. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s what I got you, so calm down." Louis raises his eyebrows when he takes a sip of his own. It’s neon green. 

“Am I gonna piss weird colors if I drink this?" Niall knows he’s in for it in the morning, because Louis keeps mixing shit up and getting them a different drink every time; apparently he knows one of the bartenders from his program because everyone else is just nursing beers and doing shots while they’ve had an increasingly ridiculous list of mixed drinks. Niall takes a sip. “This tastes like a shitty Jolly Rancher.”

“You’re fucking welcome." Louis grins, his teeth looking weird and shiny in the flashing lights. It’s some dumb fucking house music while the last band sets up; a local one that they both love. 

“I guess it’s not bad." Niall takes another drink. He’s pretty sure all his teeth are gonna fall out if he has another one, but for now it’s pretty fucking delicious. 

“It’s fucking great, please." Louis leans his elbows on the railing, looking down. “Just trying to keep things interesting, Niall.”

“It’s been super fucking interesting." Niall glances over at Louis, grinning at him. “They’re starting soon.”

“Gonna be tight." Louis smiles back. “We should come back for this next year, yeah? Whatever the fuck we’re up to, we should try and swing it.”

“Fuck yeah." Niall hadn’t thought about it that way; he drains the rest of his drink. “We’ll make it happen." 

Louis looks like he’s about to say something else when the lights go down, the whole place going insane. Niall raises his empty glass when Louis does, the two of them yelling along with everyone else. 

**

“What are we celebrating again?" Niall takes the beer when Harry sets it down in front of him, already his….fourth? Fifth? One of those. It’s crowded enough at Jim’s that Niall knows people are starting to get restless for another game weekend, even if it is away. 

“We are celebrating…” Harry sits across from Niall, narrowing his eyes, “that it’s Tuesday? No. It’s Wednesday.”

“Okay. So we’re celebrating that we know what day of the week it is, great." Harry had sent out something to the group text about all meeting up at Jim’s tonight, but Niall was the only one free -- Liam’s got something out with Sophia’s family and Louis just said _fuck this class_ and nothing else. 

“I actually did my presentation today,” Harry shrugs, taking a sip of what Niall suspects is cider judging from how flat it looks. “It went really well. Wanted to do something for it.”

“Which one? The….” Niall takes a long drink while he tries to remember, Harry looking at him like he’s about to laugh, “okay, I give up.”

“Saint Theresa." Harry shakes his head. “I only told you about it a week ago.”

“A lot can happen in a week, Harry.” Niall kicks at Harry under the table. “Plus we weren’t just talking about that, anyway.”

“No shit." Harry’s staring at Niall now, his eyes flicking down to Niall’s mouth. It makes Niall squirm. “Zayn said I did a good job, by the way.”

“Oh, right." Niall finishes off his beer, standing up and nodding his head at Harry until he sighs and does the same with his drink. “Cider?”

“Got it in one." Harry touches his finger to his nose, making a dumb face as he does. “Get me the Stella one, though. It’s on tap.”

“Well I wouldn’t make you drink out of a _bottle_ , I’m not a monster." Niall walks up to the bar and waits, signaling for Baz to get them refills. He looks back at where Harry’s sitting, doing something on his phone. Niall feels just a little over buzzed, feels sort of bad that he didn’t ask more about Zayn. He’s gotta work on that, if Harry’s trying his best with shit. 

He didn’t realize he was still staring until Harry looks up, a slow smile on his face when he waves like he’s the Queen of England. Niall snorts and shakes his head, grabbing the glasses when Baz sets them down. “Thanks,” Niall mutters as he makes his way back to where Harry is. 

“So,” Niall settles in, licking his lips after he takes a drink of his Guinness. “Did Zayn say anything else?”

“Oh, no." Harry looks surprised that Niall’s asking, running his fingers along the rim of his glass. “It was just a real quick hey, good job and then we both went our own way.”

“That’s good though." Niall shuffles his feet under the table. Harry’s legs feel like they’re everywhere. “Right?”

“Sure." Harry looks amused. “I was just telling you to tell you, I promise I don’t think that every single interaction with Zayn is this groundbreaking moment.”

“I was trying to --” Niall rolls his eyes, flipping Harry off when Harry starts laughing. “I don’t know, I thought maybe you were trying to talk about it.”

“Just a headline, nothing more." Harry puts his elbows on the table, leaning in a little closer. “I really did do a good job though.”

“That’s awesome, really." Niall means it, doesn’t want Harry to think he’s being an asshole. “Seriously, I could never do that stuff...it’s all whatever to me, you know?”

“Well, I don’t really get space and science, so I guess we’re even." Harry takes a long drink, pushing his thumb against the side of his mouth when he spills a little. “How’s that class going, by the way? The water one? That you said was hard?”

“Oh. It’s been better, actually." Niall leans back, Harry doing the same and wiggling his eyebrows up and down. “Thanks for asking.”

“I don’t know enough to ask like, specific things but,” Harry cocks his head to the side, “I can ask basic things like, how is it going? Are you failing? Is the water easy or hard? Is space still spacey?”

“You’re such an idiot." Niall startles a bit when the music suddenly gets louder, a sign they’re shifting into the later hours. He looks around; it’s getting more crowded. “Hey, you wanna go hang out at mine? It’s getting too loud here to talk.”

“Good idea." Harry drains the rest of his drink, sliding out of his side of the booth. “I’ll go settle up.”

**

“See how nice it can be when you have an actual television in your room?" Niall watches Harry from his position on the bed as Harry’s spread out in his desk chair, paging through Niall’s zoology textbook from a couple years ago. There’s nothing on and the television in his room is small and shitty, but Niall leaves it on anyway, settling on one of those late night infomercials for singer-songwriter CD collections. 

“Yeah yeah,” Harry’s eyes have that half lidded look he gets when he’s drunk. “Why didn’t you sell this one?”

“I liked it." Niall turns on his side, propping up his head with his hand. “I wish I could be like Liam, he sells all his shit back every year, makes bank. Sometimes I just wanna like, keep it. I don’t get to read it all. Like that one, we barely covered anything.”

“I keep most of mine, too." Harry turns the page, his finger drifting along the top of the book.

“Well that’s because most of yours don’t count as a textbook.”

“You’re such a philistine, Niall." Harry says, his voice light. “And no, I’m not going to tell you what that means. You can google it yourself.”

“I’m not illiterate, Harry." Niall only has a rough idea of what it means, but he’s not going to get his phone from where it’s charging on the floor to give Harry the satisfaction.

“This is more interesting than your other books,” Harry holds up the book, pointing to a picture of a zebra, “I like this dude. He’s got style.”

“Please don’t start wearing zebra print, Harry.”

“I could pull it off." Harry shuts the book, setting it carefully on the pile he’s arranged on Niall’s desk. He stands up, stretching slowly. His shirt rides up a little bit, enough that Niall can see the edge of one of his tattoos. He saw him get the fucking thing, and yet….Niall should have probably kept drinking, still right on that edge of just drunk enough. He just feels hot, now. He can feel his face go red when Harry notices him looking, raising his eyebrows.

“No, you couldn’t." Niall closes his eyes, hears some snippet of James Taylor when the bed dips under Harry’s weight, Harry pushing up close next to him. When he opens them again, Harry’s sitting on the edge, his knee digging into Niall’s ribs as he looks down at him. Harry licks his lips.

“I could too." Harry leans in, enough that Niall can smell the sharpness of the cider on his breath.

“Sure." Niall rolls to the side when Harry tips forward, laughing when he faceplants into Niall’s pillow. “Stuck the landing, Harry.”

“You’re an asshole,” Harry’s laughing, though, as he untangles himself and sits up, his hair standing up at a weird angle on one side. “I was just gonna….”

He stops, biting his lip. It looks so red. Niall wonders, for a split second, if it’d really be a good idea to do this again. He shifts his hips, trying to make more room for Harry on the bed as Harry hovers half over him. 

“Gonna what?" Niall asks, feeling tension build up in his neck. It’d be nice, he thinks. Just even to get off with someone else and not just his hand. The semester feels like it’s building up in his veins, and even though things have been calmer with everything this week, it’s just -- fuck, he doesn’t even know.

“I know we left it like,” Harry sighs, his eyes roving over Niall’s face, “open-ended, or something, but…ah, fuck it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Niall nods, pushing up on his elbows as he meets Harry halfway, their lips colliding too forcefully. “Fuck.”

“Sorry, here,” Harry’s hands are on him then, pushing at Niall until Niall’s head is more on the pillows, propped up with Harry straddling him, just far enough down Niall’s thighs that it’s not really good for doing much.

“Yeah, better." Niall slides his hand up Harry’s arm, all the way from wrist to shoulder, before cupping the back of his neck and pulling him in. It’s better, this time, Harry’s lips soft when they meet his. He tastes sweet when Niall licks into his mouth, his tongue meeting Harry’s. It makes him laugh, thinking of the fucking cider, and he has to stop for a moment to take a deep breath.

“What?" Harry leans back, pushing his hair out of his face and smiling, his eyes wider now even though Niall knows they’re probably both more drunk than he’d thought. 

“Just, you taste like a fucking apple orchard, is all." Niall laughs harder at the look on Harry’s face. “I just wasn’t expecting it, c’mon.”

“You taste like,” Harry leans down, kissing Niall with a new level of intensity before pulling back, a look on his face like he gets when he thinks he’s thought up a good joke. “An old Irishman.”

“Ohh, you got me good there." Niall shifts under Harry’s weight, feeling restless. His cock’s already starting to get interested, just from how Harry keeps brushing his fingers up and down Niall’s chest while they talk. Jesus. 

“Mhmm,” Harry hums, fucking finally leaning back down and running his tongue along Niall’s bottom lip, kissing him fully again as he shifts forward. Now Niall’s cock is definitely more interested.

They make out like that for a while, Harry’s hands on his face and Niall letting his rest on Harry’s hips and down over his ass until he can feel how hard Harry is against him every time he pushes forward. It’s driving him fucking insane. He doesn’t really want to come in his pants, keeps thinking about how Harry’s hand had felt on his dick that night.

It’s dark in the room except for the flickering light from the television, some other song playing now when Niall reaches down between them to pop the button on his jeans, then Harry’s. Harry groans into his mouth, pulling away from his mouth and tilting his forehead so it’s pressed to Niall’s.

“Fuck, good idea,” Harry says, everything getting tangled up when he reaches between them and tries to get both their cocks out. 

“Hold on,” Niall feels frustrated, batting Harry’s hands away and pushing at his hips until Harry gets the hint, scooting back a little until Niall’s able to shove his jeans and boxers down his hips just enough so that he can kick them both off. He hadn’t realized how cold it was in his room until the air hits his dick, had felt so hot with Harry bracketing him in before. 

“Let me just,” Harry swings his leg back over so he’s on his side, nearly falling off the bed when he pushes out of his own jeans. “You need a bigger bed.”

“You need to be more --” Niall nearly bites his tongue when Harry’s hand wraps around his cock. “Jesus, Harry.”

“Yeah?" Harry asks, Niall not sure of the question when Harry thumbs at the tip, spreading the wetness there down as he follows with a stroke of his hand. His miracle hands. 

“I can’t reach,” Niall says, his laugh swallowed by Harry when he leans forward to kiss him again, swinging his leg back over as he keeps a firm grip on Niall’s cock, stroking it in a faster rhythm. It’s easier, then, for Niall to reach down and feel out for the shape of Harry’s dick, his knuckles brushing against Harry’s hand. 

It’s awkward and he’s doing it just by feeling, cupping Harry’s balls first, rolling them in his palm. Harry surges forward at that, his hand stilling briefly on Niall when he groans into their kiss.

“It’s good,” Harry mumbles, pulling back just enough to look down when Niall gives him a firm stroke. It’s a weird feeling, at first, the weight of Harry’s dick in his hand. Niall likes it, likes that when he strokes up Harry’s already getting wet at the tip and making little groans under his breath. 

“Don’t stop,” Niall shifts his hips up, trying to find a good rhythm, “on account of me.”

“Sorry, it’s just awkward, I --” Harry stops, biting his lip hard when Niall twists his wrist. It’s pretty fucking hot, Niall shifting his hips up so his cock pushes through Harry’s slack grip as he jacks Harry off faster. Harry catches up then, like he was on a five second delay. It works like that for a few minutes once they find a position that gels, the harshness of their breathing mellowed out by the television still going on in the background. 

Niall manages to keep kissing Harry through most of it, biting at Harry’s lip hard when Harry flicks his wrist and Niall has to brace himself so he doesn’t come, not just yet. It feels like a weird competition, the two of them doing everything they can to get each other off first. Definitely a win-win, Niall’s able to think before Harry’s dick twitches in his grip right before he comes, groaning into Niall’s mouth.

Niall can feel some of Harry’s come land on his own cock where Harry’s still slowly working him over, and when Harry massages it into the head with his thumb Niall squeezes his eyes shut so hard it hurts, coming over Harry’s hand and his own stomach. He can feel Harry’s thighs shaking on either side of his hips when Harry plants his clean hand on the bed, easing himself on his side carefully and pressing his face into Niall’s shoulder.

“Our shirts are still on,” Niall says stupidly, suddenly aware of how they’re lying in his bed half dressed. “And I think I got your jizz on mine.”

“Here,” Harry wipes his hand on the front of his shirt, his eyes squinting up at Niall when he raises his head. He smiles. “Now we’re even.”

“Fucking disgusting,” Niall laughs though, turning his head away from where Harry’s hair is pushing into his nose. 

“This was a good talk, Niall." Harry mumbles, his fingers warm when he pats at the thin skin on Niall’s hip. “Good idea, to come here.”

“If you’re staying here, we have to get up and change my sheets first." Niall pushes at Harry so he can sit up, snagging his boxers from the end of the bed with his foot. He pulls his shirt over his head carefully and wipes his hands on it before tossing it to the floor.

“I should go home,” Harry rolls off the bed before standing up, “but I’ll help you before I do.”

He looks down at himself, one hand pulling at his shirt and the other palming his junk like Niall hasn’t seen it before. Touched it, now. 

“I’m gonna need to borrow a shirt, too.”

“Pick whatever, and grab my spare sheets from the closet,” Niall snorts as he starts stripping the bed, “if you want to wait until Liam gets home, he can give you a ride.”

“Sure, yeah." Harry hops around as he eases his boxers back on. “I love this one.”

It takes Niall a moment to realize he’s talking about the new infomercial that looks like it’s almost over, something for hair.

“In the market for a new hair care regimen?" Niall dumps the sheets on the floor, taking the clean ones from Harry.

“I don’t know, maybe." Harry sits down on the edge of the bed. “No seriously, look at what they do for this lady, it’s insane.”

“Oh, alright." Niall pushes the sheets to the side and lies out next to Harry, who’s already found the remote and turned up the volume. “But just this one, Harry.”

“Yeah, ‘course." Harry scratches at his stomach, the shirt he grabbed from Niall’s closet still balled up in his lap. “Hand me a pillow?”

**

Niall can tell something’s up the second he walks in the door; Louis is there, for one, even though it’s a Friday night and Niall knows that if he’d had plans with Liam he would have heard about it. Liam was supposed to be staying in since he and Sophia have tickets for the away game tomorrow and are planning on leaving first thing. And Liam’s standing there, looking stressed as he chugs a bottle of water. That’s a sure sign.

“Alright, what happened?” Niall shrugs out of his coat. He’d met up with some of the Boston crew for dinner but they all had tickets for the game too and called it an early night. Harry had texted him earlier that he was at some party that sounded fucking awful; Niall rescues his phone from his pocket in case he has to text him a SOS. He wonders how drunk you can really get off of brandy. Harry should be good to rush over, probably.

They probably saw Zayn, Niall thinks. Or maybe something with El. Louis mouthed off to the wrong person in a bar and now they all have to enter the Witness Protection Program. 

“Well,” Liam starts, Louis standing up at the same time and cutting him off.

“Soph can’t go with Liam tomorrow,” Louis shrugs, “so I am.”

“Niall, I’m sorry,” Liam frowns, leaning over and shoving at Louis’s shoulder, “I told you I wanted to tell him nicely.”

“Gotta rip off that band-aid, Liam." Louis holds out his arms and shakes his head. If Niall had to guess, he’s pretty sure they’ve been arguing about this for a while.

“So you decided to betray me, but figured you could just tell me gently and I’d be fine?” Niall doesn’t actually give much of a shit, but Liam looks so aggrieved that he can’t help himself. “Did you even _consider_ me? Or what about Harry?" 

“I was….with Louis, when…Sophia bailed.” Liam is the worst fucking liar, Niall can’t help but start to laugh.

“Really?" Louis rolls his eyes. “That’s your hard sell story? That I was with you?”

“Louis is,” Liam starts, Niall stepping around them both to crash on the futon. 

“Your best friend, I know." Niall reaches for the remote. “And I’m just me, the friend you’ve lived with for four years now.”

“A roommate,” Liam stands in front of the television to block Niall’s view as Louis settles next to Niall with a sigh, “is a special bond.”

“Not special enough for a game ticket,” Louis pipes up, elbowing Niall. Niall snorts.

“Liam, I don’t care, it’s fine." Niall gives up, grinning when Liam’s face finally relaxes. “Seriously. I’m not in the mood for a what, 6 hour road trip?”

“Seven." Louis says gravely. “If Liam thinks we’re leaving our hotel before check-out Sunday, he’s sorely mistaken.”

“I just said if we got a move on early,” Liam crosses his arms over his chest, “I told you we could get the continental breakfast!”

“I need to conserve my energy anyway,” Niall shrugs, “next weekend is gonna be cold as fuck here for the game. I should just stay in and try to eat a lot, store away some fat to keep me warm. Can you move, please?”

“Fine." Liam sighs when he sits on the other side of Louis. “I just didn’t want to cause a problem. Should I apologize to Harry, too?”

“Send him flowers, Liam." Louis tries to grab the remote from Niall’s hand. “He likes daisies.”

“Add in the baby’s breath, he’ll forgive you then,” Niall adds, twisting Louis’s nipple through his shirt until Louis relinquishes the grip he’s got on Niall’s other wrist. 

“Can’t I just text?" Liam pulls out his phone. “I’ll add in some flower emojis, is that good enough?”

**

“Okay, I’m done." Harry tosses the book he was reading on the floor, stretching out his arms and legs so he’s starfished out. “How long til kick-off?”

Niall looks up from his phone at the muted pregame coverage. “Ten minutes. You’re good.”

He and Harry had decided to just watch the game at Niall’s, although Harry had insisted on silence so he could finish his reading. It’s fine, he’ll see later that Niall instagrammed a pic of him with his feet kicked up and his mouth hanging open as he read with the caption _Nerd at play in his natural habitat_. 

“What class is that for, anyway?" Niall reaches for the cooler he’d set up in front of the coffee table at Harry’s insistence. It was a good idea, because Niall is not into moving much once the game starts. 

“Oh, it wasn’t for a class,” Harry shrugs, digging around in the cooler for another beer for himself. “I was just really into it so I wanted to finish. I had problems falling back asleep this morning after Louis left with as much noise as possible, I’d started it then.”

“Hold up." Niall leans back, taking in Harry’s sheepish grin. “You were reading a book you didn’t have to? During the semester? When all you do is read?”

“You read that book at mine a couple months ago,” Harry points out, and it takes Niall a second to remember. Oh yeah. When Harry was dying. It feels like so long ago. 

“I was forced because you two fuckers don’t have a TV, _and_ you were dying." Niall does like to read, usually gets a good amount of books in over the summer, but during the semester, it’s every man for himself and none of those men have time to read a fucking novel.

“The circumstances don’t matter, Niall." Harry twists himself up as he sits next to Niall on the futon, grabbing one of the throw pillows Sophia had brought over and settling it in his lap. “You still read it.”

He raises his eyebrows at Niall as he takes a drink. 

“Fine, whatever." Niall turns the volume back on. “Shut up, it’s kick-off.”

It’s a good game; mainly because they get a lead early on and hold onto it through the third quarter. Niall feels unsteady on his feet by then, right around the time he realizes that the cooler is empty. It had been….pretty full.

“Fuck,” Niall shifts so he’s sitting up more, had been slumped over against Harry’s shoulder the past few plays. “How much did we drink?”

“Uhhh,” Harry starts laughing, “that many.”

He points at the long line of bottles on the floor. It’s too many to count. 

“I see….” Harry palms Niall’s shoulder, pulling him back so he’s back to where he was. “Like. Eleven...ty.”

“Eleventy beers, sure." Niall snorts. He hears the announcers going apeshit and looks up at the TV. “Oh, we scored again.”

“Think we’re gonna win,” Harry’s voice slurs a bit when Niall turns his head to hear him. “Hey, Niall.”

"Yeah?" Niall tries to focus.

“This is my look, yeah?" Harry bites his lip, his eyes going wide. “I’m giving it to you." 

“Your look?" Niall doesn’t get it, but he does get when Harry pushes up a bit, his lips skimming over Niall’s jaw. 

“Yeah, like,” Harry starts laughing. “Football and chill, Niall. We’re three quarters in and I’m giving you my _look_.”

“This isn’t making me want to make out with you,” Niall lies, already bracketing himself over Harry, who goes over easy as they tangle together.

“This is the chill part,” Harry mumbles into Niall’s mouth right before he kisses him. It makes Niall laugh, quickly turning into a gasp when Harry pushes his thigh up between Niall’s legs.

It’s nice, the room feeling like it’s spinning a bit while they kiss, Harry’s skin warm wherever Niall touches him. The game’s loud enough that whenever something important happens they can hear, turning their heads and catching their breath to see what’s going on before slotting together again. 

“Fuck,” Harry says quietly when Niall pushes his hand up under his shirt, raking his nails down Harry’s side. He shifts up, chasing Niall’s mouth and sitting up a bit, tugging at the collar of Niall’s shirt. “Off,” he says.

“What?" Niall sits back as much as he can with his legs tangled up with Harry’s, watching Harry struggle to pull off his shirt, tossing it to the ground. Niall laughs when it knocks over a couple of their empties, it making a satisfying clinking sound. 

“Don’t wanna have my shirt on again,” Harry reaches for Niall, nodding until Niall does the same. Harry’s chest looks like it’s a little sweaty, and Niall wonders what it’d feel like to press his up against it. “If we’re doing this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall nods, tossing his shirt on the floor too and letting Harry pull him back down. It’s so warm, the soft press of Harry’s skin against his. He kisses him again, groaning out when Harry’s hands span across his back.

“C’mon, let’s,” Harry sounds breathless a few moments later, his hands roaming around to the front of Niall’s sweats and palming his dick. It makes Niall suck in a breath, clearing his head enough that he realizes where they are.

“Wait,” Niall sits up, laughing at the frown on Harry’s face. “No, I’m down, I just...this is a shared space.”

He never really wants to talk about Liam or Louis finding out that he and Harry have done this. Are doing it again. And especially not now, when Harry’s mouth is swollen from how they’ve been making out for however long and Niall can see how hard he is even in his tight jeans, Harry’s stomach clenched like he’s holding his breath. Plus, he and Liam have an agreement, no girls on the futon. He’s pretty sure that extends to Harry and his dick too.

“Oh, right." Harry sits up, his hands coming up to steady on Niall’s shoulders. “Whoa.”

“Yeah,” Niall stands, feeling unsteady when he holds out his hand for Harry. “Me too.”

“We’re just dick drunk right now, I think." Harry’s voice is low and he’s got his mouth right near Niall’s ear as he steers them toward the stairs. “I think that’s a thing.”

“Fuck,” Niall stumbles a bit when Harry’s hand comes around to squeeze at his dick through his sweats again. What Harry’s saying is so stupid, but the low rumble of his voice and his big warm hand have got Niall leaking already. “I’m gonna fall down the stairs, you want that?”

“I want you to do something else, actually." Harry laughs, the two of them pitching forward at the top of the stairs and crashing together just outside of Niall’s door on the floor. “Is the hallway good enough?”

“It’s fine,” Niall rolls over so he’s on top of Harry, licking into his mouth, “we’re good.”

It’s even better this time, the two of them sprawled out enough in the hallway that there’s plenty of room to jerk each other off at the same time, Harry breathing out harsh against Niall’s neck when they both tip over the edge. 

Niall kicks out his leg, realizing belatedly that his boxer briefs have his ankles tied together. There’s come drying on his stomach, and he’s not sure if it’s entirely all his. “Harry, I’m stuck.”

“My jeans have my knees fused together,” Harry mumbles. When he raises his head, there’s what looks like the pattern of the carpet creased into his cheek. 

“I’m gonna rally a bit,” Niall holds up his finger, Harry reaching toward it but falling just short, “and then I’m gonna shower.”

“I’ll join you,” Harry says, after a minute. “If my legs will work again. Do you think we won?”

“Oh." Fuck, the game. Niall tries to listen, see if he can hear the TV. “How much were we up by?”

“Forever points.”

“Then we won.”

**

The pro of a cold weather tailgate is that everyone drinks even more, just to stay warm. 

The con of a cold weather tailgate is that everyone drinks even more, just to stay warm.

Louis’s nose is bright red when he pours them all another shot. Niall’s pretty sure that it’s still like, below freezing outside because they’ve got a noon game and it’s cloudy. They never had a chance.

“Maybe we’ll get like, Rose." Liam makes a face when he takes the cup from Louis, swaying a little on his feet.

“That’s not even possible, Liam." Harry’s wearing eight coats and three hats, including Niall’s. Niall hadn’t realized he took it; that must be why his ears are so cold.

“I think if we win today we’ll probably get Gator though,” Louis does his shot before the others, everyone groaning. “Calm the fuck down, I’m refilling.”

“Florida would be so warm,” Harry sounds like he’s about to start crying at the mere thought of it. “Warm. Warm sun. Warm air.”

“It’d be humid too, so don’t get too excited there, frizzball." Louis holds out his cup to the center of their huddle. “C’mon, let’s do a toast.”

“We’re going if we get it, right?” Liam looks across at Niall. “Niall, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s like a given, right?" Niall jerks his arm away from Louis’s pointy as fuck elbow. “We haven’t had a bowl game worth going to yet, we’re not fucking it up now for ourselves.”

“Promise on this shot,” Harry says solemnly, “promise on this shot we’ll all go.”

“I promise,” Liam eyes are wide. “Niall, promise.”

“Why aren’t you making Louis promise?”

“Louis is next,” Liam groans at Niall’s look. “Louis, promise.”

“Can we all just do this shot?" Louis sighs. “I mean, I promise.”

They all do their shots, Niall grinning over at Harry who spits a little into the center of the circle.

“Harry, that is a _waste_." Louis sounds pissed off.

“I’ve done like six, give me a break.”

“Guys, we’re gonna have so much fun,” Liam gathers them all into a group hug. “Harry, if you’re gonna vom, give me a warning.”

“I just spit up a little!”

“I don’t want to go anymore.”

“Louis, you didn’t mean that." Liam pulls them in tighter. “We all promised.”

**

Niall snorts at his phone when he gets the text from Liam, just a string of alligator emojis followed by confetti. Andy’s party must be going well.

They’d split up after the game, Niall just compromised enough that he agreed to go with Harry to the party Cara and Kendall were having. They didn’t even go to the game; it’s some sort of masquerade theme. He’s the only one without a mask.

Or, he was, until Kendall wrestled him into one of her extra ones before making him take a selfie with her. 

There are so many fucking people, too, most of them complete strangers to Niall. He suspects most of them are either from another school or just no school altogether. He can never tell with this side of Harry’s friend group; it’s like they all decided collectively to befriend a bunch of old ass people who have incredibly niche interests. 

Weaving his way through the crowd, Niall finally spots Harry with Xander, fiddling with some sort of weird contraption. Part of the reason why he'd agreed to go with Harry is because he hadn't really seen him all week; they'd both been swamped with class and other stressful shit. It'd be nice if they could actually hang out for a while. 

“Niall!” Harry grins. “Cara had Annie set up this absinthe station, look.”

He turns the knob on the side, and Niall watches the water dribble down over the sugar cube balancing over the glass. 

“Here,” Xander hands over the glass he’s holding. “Try it.”

“Sure." Niall shrugs. It tastes weird, different from anything he’s ever had. “Am I gonna start tripping balls soon?”

Harry starts laughing, sipping at his own drink. He meets Niall’s eyes and winks.

“Nah, it’s pretty mellow." Xander nods at some girl who’s squeezing past. “Haylie, hey. Harry, I’ll see you.”

“See you,” Harry echoes, raising his arm in a wave. “Niall, where were you?”

“Kendall made me take an entire camera roll’s worth of selfies." Niall makes a face, finishing off his drink. He feels a little lightheaded, but it’s pleasant. Sort of like a magnifying glass has been slipped over how wasted he is. It feels concentrated.

“She’s really dedicated to that,” Harry says seriously, like he's sharing some big secret. It makes Niall want to burst out laughing. “She says that for every hundred pics, you get one good one.”

“I’m sure you learned that the hard way." Niall laughs when Harry shimmies his shoulders a little when a new song comes on, something with a thumping bass that makes it feel like the whole apartment is shaking. “Tell me, how many people here have you hooked up with?”

A lot, Niall knows. Sometimes he wonders if he’d be surprised if he went to one of these with Harry sometime and it turned into some password protected orgy. 

“Um,” Harry shrugs, looking around and counting on his fingers, “fuck you, just Kendall and Cara, actually. I don’t know a lot of these people. So just those two.”

“Well,” Harry adds before Niall can say anything, his eyes looking glassy as they look over Niall’s face, “just those three.”

“I was just,” Niall’s mouth feels dry, and it’s like the weird fucking drink hits him all at once. 

“Nah, this was a lame idea, I get it." Harry leans forward, his mouth skimming over Niall’s ear, “if you wanted to leave, you just had to ask, you didn’t have to be a dick.”

“I gotta,” Niall feels dizzy suddenly, spinning around and making his way toward the bathroom, the one near the back of the apartment that’s attached to Cara’s room. It’s blessedly free, Niall laughing when he can hear Harry slip in behind him, closing the door. His eyes are wide.

“You okay?" he asks Niall. He reaches up, pressing the back of his hand to Niall’s forehead. “Absinthe is weird the first time, but it’s cool, I promise.”

“I’m fine,” Niall takes a deep breath, his back pressed against the counter with Harry looming over him. “Liam’s really excited.”

He pulls out his phone, thumbing the button and tilting the screen so Harry can see the notification. 

“It is gonna be a good time,” Harry grins, “hey, we can go meet up with them, I’m pretty done here.”

“You’re done?" Niall turns his head, catching their reflection in the full length mirror Cara has on the back of her door, sees how big Harry’s hand looks on Niall’s shoulder. “We could….”

“What, here?" Harry takes a step back, laughing a little when he spreads his arms out in the small space. “Here?”

“Just thought,” Niall’s fucking wasted and he wants Harry’s hand on his dick. That's all. He's a simple guy and he knows what he wants. He doesn’t realize he’s even said it out loud until Harry’s eyes widen, surging forward and kissing Niall. It’s like it goes from zero to sixty after that, the two of them pushed up against the counter. Harry’s mouth is everywhere, and he mumbles something in Niall’s neck. “Wait, what?”

“Wanna blow you,” Harry says it clearer, pushing back and looking at Niall with his mouth hanging open. “Can I?”

“If you want, yeah,” Niall had never thought it’d turn to this, the thought of Harry’s red mouth stretched around his cock nearly too much. “Yeah, okay. Yeah.”

“I don’t know why, I just --” Harry takes a step away from Niall, reaching over and locking the bathroom door. Niall can feel his dick twitch, just from that alone. God. 

“I don’t care why,” Niall fumbles with his fly, shoving his jeans down his hips. “Want me here?" 

“Just like that." Harry drops to his knees. He pauses to press a kiss to the middle of Niall’s thigh, and it makes Niall feel so shaky he might nut off right then. It’s like every nerve of his body is on edge when Harry pulls his boxers down just enough to get out his cock, looking up at Niall before licking the tip. Niall’s hips jolt forward.

“Sorry, sorry." The room is throbbing in time with the beat when Harry finally, finally gets his mouth around his cock, sucking lightly at the head at first. “God, Harry, that feels so fucking good.”

Harry pulls off, still jacking Niall when he turns his head to wipe his mouth on his shoulder.

“Good,” Harry smiles up at him, his eyes looking glazed. “You taste good.”

“Jesus,” Niall can’t do anything else but lean back until his head hits the mirror, a distracting point of pressure when Harry licks sloppily along the length of him before sinking down properly and keeping a firm grip at the base. It’s probably one of the top three blow jobs Niall’s ever had, Harry doing a million different things all at once like he can’t make up his mind. “Harry, you’re….”

“I’m trying to find it,” Harry sounds breathless the next time he pulls off, his lips moving lightly against Niall’s slit, tongue flicking out there, “doing all the stuff I like, see if it’s what you like.”

“I like it all,” Niall blurts out, trying to hold his hips still when Harry takes him down again. He can feel himself start to turn inside out, almost, lifting a shaky hand from where he’s got it gripped on the edge of the counter to rest on Harry’s head. “Harry, I’m gonna -- oh, _fuck_ , I’m gonna do you next, I swear, I---”

Harry pulls off just in time, pressing his face into Niall’s thigh and working Niall through it as he comes all over Harry’s hand. Harry groans low and long, his teeth grazing at Niall’s skin. When Niall looks down, Harry’s got his hand pressed to his jeans, palming himself.

“Did you --” Niall can’t catch his breath, can’t finish the sentence.

“Yeah,” Harry laughs like he can’t believe it. “I did. Fuck.”

“Less work for me then." Niall slides down until he’s sitting next to Harry on the floor. “You okay?”

“Haven’t done that in…." Harry laughs again. “Fuck. Think I’m gonna skip Andy’s.”

“Wanna just come crash at mine? It’s closer." Now that he’s come, Niall can already tell how bad his hangover’s gonna be in the morning. “I’ll get an Uber.”

Harry nods, standing up and turning on the sink. “C’mon, let’s clean up first.”

**

“Fuck you,” Liam says, leaning over both Sophia and Harry in order to punch Niall in the thigh. It’s not hard enough to give him a dead leg but it hurts all the same.

“Shit! What the fuck.” Niall accidentally rams his shoulder into Harry trying to escape Liam’s fist. Sophia’s the only one who really seems annoyed to be caught in the middle.

“You’re cheating!”

“HOW?” Niall asks, gesturing at the screen with his controller. “It’s not my fault Soph’s worse than Harry!”

“Hey!” Sophia and Harry both say, in freaky unison. Niall’s saved from whatever was going to come next by Louis storming into their apartment. The door actually rattles on its hinges.

“Class that bad, Tomlinson?” Liam asks, twisting in his seat.

“Would you get a load of this,” Louis says, like Liam hadn’t spoken. “This fuckface. This dumbshit box of hair gel and rocks. This motherfucking --”

“I think he means you,” Harry whispers to Niall, making him snort.

“No,” Liam says, “it’s probably like, Zayn.”

HIs sincerity makes Niall laugh even harder. Louis, still ranting, doesn’t seem to notice until Sophia says, “You gonna do this all night, or…”

“Perrie!” Louis shouts, flinging his arms out so forcefully Niall ducks just in case his phone comes free and goes sailing across the room. “Can you believe she fucking texted me, said Zayn needs -- no, wait, I have to find it. I’m in class, minding my own business, and then _this_ bullshit comes up: ‘can you give Z a ride home for Thanksgiving?’”

His eyebrows are practically at his hairline. When everyone’s silent he narrows his eyes, his anger shifting from Zayn to them. Or it’s expanding. Louis surely has enough to spread around.

They’re all so squished together that Niall can feel Harry’s ribs expand with the breath he takes, like he’s reaching to the very depths of his soul before he says, “That’s…”

“BULLSHIT,” Louis finishes. “A ride! He hasn’t talked to us since Halloween but he wants a _ride_?”

Louis does not bring up how he has driven Zayn home for every other break since freshman year. It’s different now, Niall knows that, but he can kind of, sort of see where it’s coming from. It’s insane, but he can sort of understand. 

“And he didn’t even ask me himself!” Louis shouts.

“Yeah, that’s fucking ridiculous,” Niall says, because it is. Then again, Zayn’s always been a bit of a coward. 

“I’m going to tell her she’s out of her goddamn mind.”

“No,” Niall and Sophia say at the exact same time. 

“Louis.” Harry leans forward, his hands steepled together. “I think we should all take a minute --”

“Unless the next words out of your mouth are ‘to devise a plan to dump Zayn’s body on the toll road’ then I don’t want to hear it.”

“Okay, murder seems a bit,” Liam starts, stopping abruptly when Louis glares at him. “What? Nothing. What?”

“If you were really my best friend, you’d help me hide anyone’s body. Even Zayn’s.”

“I -- “ Liam’s jaw hangs open. “Louis! I would.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.” Louis looks at his phone, thumb twitching like he’s about to start texting. Niall feels a headache coming on. 

“Don’t,” Harry says. “Louis.”

Louis raises one eyebrow. Niall gets the sinking feeling he might text something supremely horrible back just to spite everyone here. And Zayn. And Perrie.

“Oh my god,” Sophia says. “I know it’s shitty, but you can’t flip out at Perrie.”

“That’s what I was just saying!” Harry says.

“You,” Niall points at Harry, “shut up. You, give me the phone. You, stop trying to think of murder plots as a way to apologize.”

“I wasn’t!” Liam says. 

Louis curls his hand tighter around his phone. “Fuck you.”

“Louis.” 

“Niall.”

He’s wondering how, exactly, to talk Louis off this ledge when Harry leans forward and snatches the phone right out of Louis’s grip. Bless him and his stupidly long arms.

“The fuck?” Louis tries to grab it back but Harry’s quicker, lobbing the phone to Sophia, who shrieks and then launches herself over Liam. 

“I’m texting her back for you,” she says, while Louis curses, struggling against the grip Harry’s got on him.

“Fuck you, Smith. I knew I never should’ve trusted you.”

“We all make mistakes,” Sophia says, sounding distracted. 

“Don’t make it sound too nice, let me see what you’re saying.” Niall has to walk carefully to avoid Louis’s flailing limbs, but Harry seems to have it mostly under control. He’s sitting on Louis, has his hands pinned. His face looks weirdly calm. Niall wishes he had time to take a picture.

“I’m not going to make it too nice,” Sophia argues.

“I would help you hide any body, no matter what,” Liam says.

“Jesus Christ,” Louis thumps his head against the floor.

“Why the fuck would you start with _hi_? That’s TOO NICE, Jesus, Soph, give me that.” Niall takes the phone from her and types out _Tell him no effing way_. 

“Niall.” Sophia takes the phone back. “We already said he can’t be a dick to Perrie, it’s not _her_ fault.”

“I don’t think Zayn stole her phone to text Louis for a ride,” Harry says. “I don’t think we should like, be mean to her, but… she is -- ow, FUCK, Louis, that was my KIDNEY.”

“Well then GET THE FUCK OFF ME.”

“Can you type faster?” Harry asks, sounding pained. 

It takes a surprisingly long time to find a way to say _fuck no_ that walks the line between nice and not too nice -- a line that, according to Sophia, requires at least two heart emojis no matter how much Louis argues he thinks hearts are fucking stupid -- but eventually she hits send and Harry rolls off Louis.

“I’m going to have bruises for a hundred days,” he says. “And then I’m going to die from internal bleeding.”

“Well the good news is,” Niall helps him up, “Liam will help Louis bury your body.”

“I would,” Liam says seriously. 

Louis takes Sophia’s spot on the futon, reaching for the controller. “You’d better,” he says, and starts the game without waiting for anyone else.

**

It’s not until the next afternoon that he finds out from Liam that Perrie’s texted back, just an okay with some string of emojis that sound like she’d put as much thought into them as Sophia had for Louis’s. 

“Is Lou still leaving tomorrow, then?” he asks, staring into the fridge like if he looks long enough something edible will just materialize. There’s no point in shopping this close to the holiday but it means they’re caught in that space where there’s no food anywhere in the apartment.

“Yeah. Early, he said. And then he’ll come back late Sunday. I told him he could stay here, but --”

“He never would.” Louis has too many siblings at home to consider sticking around on campus, celebrating with someone else’s family. Plus he’s close enough that going home is a no-brainer. Niall’s always stayed in town, just because the alternative of selling one of his kidneys to pay for Thanksgiving flights seems stupid. No matter how many times Liam claims his grew back, Niall doesn’t think it’d be worth the risk.

“I know. My mom’s excited, though. Said she’s making extra potatoes just for you.”

“Good.” Niall shuts the fridge, reaching for the mostly-empty bag of chips sitting on the counter. They’ll do for now. “That year she didn’t make enough was hell, Liam. I’d hate to have to stop coming entirely.”

It’s out of his mouth before he realizes this probably _is_ the last year. He’s gone to the Paynes every Thanksgiving since they started school and it’s almost as good as being at home at this point, but next year… who knows what the fuck is happening after graduation. The odds that Niall’ll be at home are pretty likely.

If Liam realizes what Niall’s thinking, he doesn’t show it. Instead he rolls his eyes and says, “Great. Wherever she is, my mom’s just started crying and she has no idea why. Nice job, Horan.”

“Karen’s always crying, don’t start blaming it on me. Blame it on Harry, she’s probably stressed she has to set an extra place. Where’s he even gonna fit? I’m not going back to the kid’s table, Liam, not after we finally got bumped up.”

Liam pales a little, like this is the first time it’s occurring to him. Harry hadn’t gone last year, had spent the holiday with family friends who lived nearby. But the Winstons moved back to LA so Harry’s coming back to the Paynes.

“Call her,” Niall says, but it’s pointless because Liam’s already got his phone to his ear and is saying, “Hi, Mom? Question.”

**

“Hi, boys!” Mrs. Payne is at the door before Liam’s twisted the knob all the way open. She throws her arms around Niall first, then Harry. 

“Mom!”

“I’m just saving you for last.” She holds his face in her hands like she hasn’t seen him in months. “My baby boy.” 

Niall thinks Karen is more excited to see Liam each and every time he comes home than Niall’s own mom is when he flies back for Christmases. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Harry says as Liam’s dad comes into the room, clapping them all on the back and trying to take their overnight bags. It’s easier to let him, Niall knows. “These two were still in sweats when I got to theirs.”

“Liam.” Karen shakes her head. Niall discreetly pinches Harry’s side. Like Harry hadn’t been equally fucking hungover this morning, the three of them and Sophia staying up until three in the fucking morning, getting drunk and watching infomercials. Niall is definitely asking for a Magic Bullet for Christmas, no matter how much everyone’d laughed at him for bringing it up last night. 

“How can we help?” Harry asks, and just like that, they’re set to work. It feels like days of helping Liam lug chairs up from his basement, the two of them arguing over how to set the table properly while Harry charms Liam’s mom and sisters. 

“Is he even working in there?” Niall asks, trying to peer around the door without getting caught. “Or do you think they’re just like, letting him lick the bowl. God, I’m so hungry, Liam. I told you we should’ve stopped for breakfast.”

“It’s like, noon.” Liam has apparently given up on folding the napkins in the fancy way his sister had demonstrated and is going for a half-hearted rectangles. “You can wait an hour to eat.”

“An _hour_?” 

“Don’t yell,” Harry says, appearing in the doorway. “Karen needs someone to dry the dishes.”

Liam and Niall touch their noses at the same time. “Why can’t you do it?” Niall asks.

Harry gestures to the spoon he’s holding like it’s obvious. “I’m in charge of the gravy.”

“That explains the apron, then.” Liam snorts. Harry glares at him, and then at Niall when he yanks on the strings around Harry’s waist.

Liam finishes his side of the table and sighs. “Save yourself, Niall. I’ll go. I’m going to end up stuck in there once Sophia gets here anyway, might as well bite the bullet and just start now.”

“Niall, we’re guests,” Harry says pointedly, and as much as Niall would love to hide with Geoff and watch football or the parade or whatever the fuck is on TV right now, he knows Harry’s got a point.

“I’ve got it, Li. But only if I get a sick apron, too.”

“Oh, do you need an apron, sweetie?” Karen asks. Harry’s face splits into a grin while Niall pales.

“No,” Liam says, shaking his head. He’s already backing out of the room, the bastard. Niall never should’ve listened to Harry. He should know by now that all of Harry’s ideas are terrible. “You don’t get to complain. That’s your own damn fault.”

“I think the flowery one will fit him best, Karen,” Harry yells back. He’s got dimples for fucking days. Niall flips him the finger, which only makes Harry smile harder.

**

“Let’s go around the table and say what we’re thankful for,” Karen says, while everyone’s still holding hands after saying grace.

Harry squeezes Niall’s hand under the table. When Niall looks over, Harry’s got a weird look on his face, panic and amusement and disbelief, like he’s not sure what the fuck’s going on. Niall squeezes his hand back, hoping Harry understands _Paynes are gonna Payne_. They do this every year. The first time, Niall had almost burst out laughing. Now he comes prepared.

“Been planning mine all month,” Niall whispers. 

“Gonna say you’re thankful for me?”

He means it as a joke, Niall knows that, but it still takes a second for his brain to formulate a response, even if that response is just rolling his eyes. 

“I’m thankful for this beautiful dinner you’ve prepared,” Harry says, not missing a beat. It makes Karen beam, even if the younger people at the table all make faces at Harry’s obvious pandering, “and that you’ve welcomed me into your home so graciously, and that --”

“Suck up,” Niall says, just loud enough that the people nearest them chuckle. “I’m thankful for a winning football season.”

Half the people at the table cheer. Geoff even lets go of his sister’s hand to toast Niall. 

It’s only after they’ve moved on to the next person that Harry leans over. “Suck up.”

Niall shrugs and knocks their joined hands against Harry’s knee. “I know my audience,” he says. He doesn’t need to look over to know Harry’s biting his lip to smother a laugh.

**

“I think I might actually explode,” Harry says, falling onto the couch next to Niall. “Look at this.”

“Jesus Christ, put your shirt down, Styles.” Niall yanks Harry’s shirt so his stomach’s not on display anymore. “Liam’s great-aunt doesn’t need to see that.”

“No one needs to see it,” Liam says, kicking Harry’s leg as he goes past. “Come on, you two have to split up.”

“I can’t move,” Harry says.

“Well you can’t be on the same team, so Niall, let’s go.”

“Oh, let them be on the same team,” Ruth says.

Niall grins at her. “I always knew you were my favorite Payne.”

“No,” Liam says. “They’re too, like…”

“Excuse me, Liam, what’s that supposed to mean?” He imitates the weird series of gestures Liam’d just done. 

“You’re like, telephonic. Anytime you’re on the same team it’s unfair to everyone else.”

“Or _extra_ fair to the people on our team,” Niall says. He’d forgotten about this part, how Liam’s entire family -- aunts, uncles, cousins, the stray neighbors who’ve stopped by -- play a bunch of games after dinner. The Horans just drink and fall asleep in front of the TV, which is exactly what Niall wants to be doing right now. Not… Pictionary, or whatever it is that Geoff seems to be setting up. Christ.

“Come be on our team,” one of Liam’s uncles says. The one who’d cornered Niall before dinner and started giving him unsolicited career advice. 

Liam’s parents’ newly-divorced neighbor squeezes into the space between Harry and the arm of the couch. It’s impressive, really, because there isn’t really enough room for a human being, but she seems determined to make it work.

“Don’t leave me,” Harry mouths. He’s not actively leaning away from Sonia but Niall can tell he wants to. 

“I…” Niall looks around the room, at all the people he’s already made so much small talk with. He knows Liam’s family really well and he loves them to death, but his extended family is too much. It takes some working, edging out of the room, but he thinks he does a subtle enough job. He spares one glance over his shoulder to check that Harry’s doing the same thing, going out the opposite way. 

“Where are you going?” Liam asks, Sophia peering at them from behind his shoulder. She looks remarkably guilty.

“Why, you worried our bailing will make everyone notice you two’ve bailed, too?”

“Hey!” Sophia says. “I’m terrible at drawing and you know that. I’m a handicap on a team. We were doing everyone a favor.”

Niall’s about to make a rude comment about certain kinds of favors when Liam’s eyes go slightly wider.

“What’s all this?” Karen comes up at the same time as Harry finds them. She’s got a tray of brownies in her hands. The good kind, with a thick layer of frosting on them. Niall isn’t hungry, but he’d still eat one.

“I gotta take a nap, Mrs. Payne,” Niall says, trying to look as tired as humanly possible. “Me and Harry were just telling Liam how much we didn’t want to miss the game, but it’s that or pass out on your floor.”

“Oh.” She shifts the tray so she can pat his cheek. It seems like she’s checking him for a fever, too, which is absurd but nice in a mom-ly way. It makes Niall miss home even more than he had been. “Alright, you go on upstairs. I think Geoff put your things in Nic’s old room.”

She cups Harry’s cheek before sending them in the direction of the stairs. Liam and Sophia are already curled back around each other, laughing at something. 

“We’re missing dessert,” Harry says as he falls, face-first, onto the bed. Niall kicks off his shoes and jeans before crawling into the pulled-out trundle.

“I thought you were about to explode,” he says, pulling the sheets up over himself. He’d only said he was tired to get out of the room, but now that he’s lying down it feels real. His hangover from last night is probably having some weird, super-delayed effects. Counteracting with everything he’s drank since dinner started.

“But pie, Niall.” Harry blinks at Niall over the edge of the bed. Only half his face is visible. Niall closes his eyes. “Think of all the pies.”

“Maybe Karen’ll save us a plate.” 

“Text Liam. Ask him to ask her.”

“You do it, I’m sleeping.”

“You’re not sleeping yet.”

“Only because you’re talking to me.”

Harry’s quiet for a moment. Everyone downstairs is yelling about something, the good kind of yelling. Niall should call home soon, while everyone’s still at the house. 

“Can you set an alarm?” Harry asks. “We’re going through the ads later and I don’t want to accidentally sleep through it.”

“Set your own alarm.”

Harry pokes Niall in the nose. “My phone’s downstairs.”

“Mine’s…” Niall looks to where he’d chucked his pants, his phone still in the pocket. They’re so far away. Stupid Harry and his weird love of Black Friday. Niall drags his pants closer, fishing out his phone and handing it to Harry. “Here. The code’s --”

“0913, I know, thanks.” Harry sets the phone on windowsill above the bed when he’s finished. The room is dark without the glow of the screen. Niall wonders what time it is. It can’t be that late, even though it feels like it’s close to midnight.

Downstairs, one of the teams starts cheering. Niall hitches the blankets higher over his shoulders and hopes he falls asleep before Harry starts snoring.

**

The morning is frigid, the kind of cold that makes Niall wish he could stay in bed all day. He has no idea how Harry and everyone went out in the middle of the goddamn night. Sophia had texted him and Liam a picture at like, four am, of her and Harry bundled up, clutching coffee cups and smiling like a couple of horror movie twins.

They look less enthusiastic now that they’re back. Harry doesn’t even bother taking off his coat before he lands on the couch, half in Niall’s lap and half in Liam’s. 

“How’d it go?” Niall asks. Harry’s face is freezing where it’s pressing against his bare arm. 

“Really good,” Sophia says. “We got a lot of Christmas taken care of. Well, I did. And your family too, I think. Your mom seems happy, at least.”

“I am,” Karen says, coming into the room. She pats Harry’s calf. “Because I had some good helpers with me this year.”

“He’s not five, Mom.” 

She ignores Liam in favor of looking at the empty plates on the coffee table. “Did you two eat pie for breakfast? Honestly.”

“Pie?” Harry struggles upright and then gives up, making Niall grunt under his weight. 

“I thought you were going home so you could die in peace,” Sophia says, laughing as Harry fumbles around in order to flip her off without Karen noticing. 

“Just a little something for the road, then,” Karen says, and that’s how both Niall and Harry end up with shopping bags full of leftovers to take back to their apartments. 

“I’m gonna sleep for like… I don’t know. Call me later?” Harry says while Niall idles outside his apartment. “We can hang out. Just when I’m less dead.”

“Yeah, def.” Niall waves as Harry gets out of the car, moving slowly. He waits until Harry’s inside the building before he pulls away, excited at the prospect of a shower and his own bed.

**

Niall wakes up to his phone ringing, which is weird in and of itself.

“Niall! What the hell?” Harry says the second Niall answers. “I thought we were going to hang out! It’s ten AM, you were supposed to call me.”

“I did!” Niall says, kicking at the blankets. He’d passed out after dropping Harry off, woken up when it was already dark out. “You told me to leave you the fuck alone.”

“I did no-- wait.”

“Yeah, remember that?” Niall laughs. It’d been like Harry was channeling the ghosts of Louis and Zayn in the same moment, all fiery rage. “You’re a real bag of dicks when you’re tired.”

“I was tired!” Harry says pointlessly, making Niall laugh harder.

“I know, I didn’t take it personally. You missed some pretty great sandwiches, though.” 

“Oooh, I still have leftovers.” Harry takes a deep breath; Niall can tell it turns into another yawn. “Fuck, it’s like I’m drugged. I need coffee -- do you want to meet me at Starbucks?”

There’s fuck all else to do today, so Niall shrugs and says, “Sure.”

**

“It’s weird out here,” Harry kicks at rock, sending it skittering across the sidewalk. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it this empty.”

Campus is practically deserted. There were a few people getting coffee, but they haven’t passed anybody on the slow walk back to… wherever it is they’re going. Nowhere, Niall thinks. They’ve already walked past the same statue twice. Or. Wait.

“Didn’t we just pass that thing?” 

Harry looks at it and then sighs heavily. “We’ve been here for four years, can you honestly not tell them apart?”

“Listen, we can’t all be art historians or whatever.”

“First of all, those are clearly two different statues. One is a woman, Niall.”

“They’re both stone people, I don’t know. If I’m on this side of campus it’s because I’m late as fuck, I don’t have time to study the differences.”

“You took biology, though, right?” Harry stops walking, setting his hand on Niall’s shoulder. “You can tell the --”

“Get the fuck off me.” Niall kicks at Harry’s leg, both of them laughing. “You, of all people, know I know the difference.”

The joke hangs between them for a minute. Niall knows it didn’t actually echo across the quad, but it’s so quiet out here it may as well have. 

“Touche.” Harry bumps his shoulder into Niall’s as they start walking again, aimless. It’s so gray out, like even the sun’s knows no one’s around. “I should’ve grabbed a hat.”

When Niall looks over, Harry’s touching his ears, which’ve gone red. It’s warmer than it was yesterday, but it’s nearly December and Harry always falls apart when the winter finally sets in. Niall shifts course, angling them down one of the sidewalks that starts towards the edge of campus, not the middle. 

“One more winter left,” Niall says. “Then you never have to do it again.”

“We’ll see.” Harry laughs wryly. He shoves his hands deeper into his coat pockets. Looking at him, it seems like he should be warm, but Niall knows from years of experience that Harry’s lacking at least two layers to be comfortable. “I uh, I’m sort of applying to grad school? And some of them are out here and some are in California, obviously, but like, I’m not necessarily done with winters? Hopefully. I don’t know.”

“Shit.” Niall doesn’t know what else to say. The wave of guilt for all the times he’d talked about his internship applications is overwhelming. He thinks of all the times they’ve sat around bitching, Louis and his never-ending string of networking dinners and Liam moaning that if all else fails he’ll just go work with his dad. Niall’s only just realizing that Harry’s never really complained about his shit. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

Harry shrugs. “It’s -- I don’t know, we’ve all got a lot of shit going on, it just kind of… happened. After I got published my advisor started bringing it up, saying I should seriously consider it because it would be a good fit for someone of my nature -- oh my god, shut up.” He elbows Niall when he starts to chuckle. “I hate you so much. ANYWAY, I like school and writing and what’s the worst thing that happens? I don’t get in anywhere?”

“You’ll get in somewhere,” Niall says immediately. Harry’s smile is small but grateful.

“So I took the GRE --”

“Already?”

“-- and started filling out applications and like, who the fuck knows, Niall. It’s a dumb waiting game.”

“So… it’s grad school for writing, then?”

“Creative writing, yeah.” Harry raises his hand, fingers crossed. Niall does the same, smiling when Harry does. “We can’t all be half a second from some amazing internship.”

“It’s not --” Niall pauses, unsure if he should say anything now, but whatever, “I signed the contract this week.”

Harry’s face goes through a dozen different emotions before he settles on shock. “And you’re giving _me_ shit for not saying anything? You lying sack of --”

“I wasn’t lying!” Niall swerves, catching Harry’s fist before it can glance off his shoulder. “Things were crazy and then it was Thanksgiving and, you know…”

“Niall!” Harry throws his arms around him. “That would’ve been a much better thing to be thankful for than some stupid football season.”

“Hey.” Niall squeezes Harry tightly before pulling out his hug, schooling his face into a mask of annoyance. “We are BCS eligible this year because of that football season. Remember how shitty we were sophomore year? Remember last year when you _cried_ because we lost --”

“We _all_ cried,” Harry says. 

Niall’s shrug isn’t a concession but it isn’t a denial, either. “I’m just saying. I’m glad we’re going out on a high note.”

They walk a few feet before he says, “You should write about _that_ for your application essays: our triumph over football adversity. Do you have to write essays for grad school? I’d think if you’re trying to go to writing school --”

“Oh my god,” Harry says, head tipped back, face turned up towards the clouds. He looks like he’s praying. Niall waits a second before rushing at him, sending them both tumbling straight into a pile of leaves.

**

“I don’t know,” Harry says, “I guess we could like, watch a movie?”

Niall shrugs. “Sounds good.”

They’d walked back to Harry’s on autopilot, picking leaves out of their hair and laughing about all the ridiculous things Liam’s family members had said they were thankful for. Who picks serenity, honestly?

It’s shitty that there’s so little to do at Harry’s. If Niall had been paying attention he could’ve steered them in the direction of his place, where at least there’s a fucking TV instead of the two of them crowding onto Harry’s bed, watching _Home Alone_ on his tiny-ass laptop.

“I can’t believe you don’t own _Home Alone 2_ ,” Niall says, yanking off his sweatshirt before settling in. Harry’s room is always so fucking hot in the winter, like he’s cold-blooded or something.

“I’m not having this fight with you again.” Harry sets the laptop between their knees, fiddling with the screen. “Can you see okay?”

Niall stuffs his sweatshirt behind his head. “Down a little more -- yeah, like that.”

It’s another five minutes of shuffling -- Harry can’t get his pillows quite right, he’s too warm so he needs to chuck his sweater, and then his fidgeting knocks the computer off its precarious perch on one of his textbooks -- but after that it’s fine. Nice, even, Harry’s warmth bleeding through Niall’s t-shirt where they’re pressed together. 

He’s seen this movie so many times that he barely pays attention. He doesn’t know why he keeps thinking about the way Harry’s shifting next to him, like he’s inching closer even though there’s nowhere else to go. Niall looks over, planning to tell him to quit it, but gets distracted by the way Harry’s pulling at his lower lip as he stares at the screen. All Niall can think of, suddenly, is the bathroom at Cara’s place, how Harry’s mouth had been all swollen afterwards. Niall had thought, stupidly, that it might stay like that forever. 

“What?” Harry looks over, catching him staring. 

“Nothing,” Niall says, making himself blink. That doesn’t clear his thoughts. “Just. C’mere.” 

Harry leans forward immediately. His breath hitches when Niall kisses him, like he hadn’t expected it. Like he’d been waiting for Niall to tell him a secret or brush dirt off his face or something. 

Niall twists, rolling onto his side so it’s easier to press his torso against Harry’s. To feel the way it expands when he breathes. Harry’s skin is warm where Niall rucks up his shirt. It’s unexpected every time; he always expects every part of Harry to be as cold as his hands are. 

“Wait.” Harry plants his hand on Niall’s chest, putting some distance between them. “My computer.” 

He closes it, shoves it under his bed. The silence afterwards is deafening. Harry throws his leg over Niall’s hips, shifting until he’s on top of Niall, and the groan that works it’s way out of Niall’s throat is unbearably loud. Niall has never felt more sober than when Harry works Niall’s sweats over his hips. 

“Don’t come this time,” Niall says when Harry curls his fingers in the waistband of Niall’s boxers.

Harry’s eye roll is impressive, considering what he’s doing. “You’re such a dick.” 

“Maybe I should do you first,” Niall says, “just in case.” 

He’d been joking, mostly, but Harry pauses, his eyes going wide. “Okay.” 

It’s an awkward minute of shuffling around, Harry trying to kick out of his jeans while he’s still scooting backwards, but then he’s laid out on the bed, Niall between his legs in a way that he’s pretty sure won’t fuck up his knee more than it already is. 

“Alright?” 

“No,” Harry says before lifting his head just enough to shoot Niall a huge grin. It disappears as soon as Niall gets Harry’s dick in his mouth. “Shit, Niall.” 

He has to pull off, spit in his palm to slick up the parts of it he can’t reach, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind. He’s making these short, abortive thrusts, like it’s taking all his concentration not to fuck up into Niall’s mouth, and Niall pets at Harry’s hip to show his appreciation. He’s not -- his gag reflex isn’t the best. Not that Harry seems to have any complaints right now.

“Oh god.” Harry’s hand isn’t tangled in his hair so much as resting on it, but Niall still feels the way his fingers twitch in warning. It’s just enough time for Niall to pull back so he doesn’t choke. 

“Sorry,” Harry says at the face Niall makes after he swallows. He hadn’t had much of a choice. It’s… well, at least Harry’s laughing. “Here,I’ll make it up to you.” 

Harry recovers startlingly quickly, pressing a kiss to the corner of Niall’s mouth before sliding onto the floor, pulling Niall’s legs until he’s sprawled out to Harry’s liking. 

“Fuuuuuck.” Niall feels like his brain skips a beat or twelve when Harry licks up his dick, all the way from base to tip. He stares at the ceiling because if he looks anywhere else he’s sure he’ll come immediately. It’s so bright in the room he knows he’d be able to see everything. Why didn’t they turn of the lights to watch this fucking movie? Niall doesn’t regret it, but like. Maybe he regrets the lights, sort of. He hadn’t realized they were still on, but now, laid out like this, with one of Harry’s hands spread out on his stomach and the other cupping his balls it’s like… it’s too much. Had Harry been watching him? Niall had been too focused on what he was doing to think about it, but now, Jesus, he can feel his chest going even redder at the thought.

His hand spasms and he accidentally yanks a handful of Harry’s hair and that makes Harry moan in a way Niall hadn’t anticipated. He curses -- something else that sounds so fucking loud in this godforsaken room -- and his hips jerk of their own volition, which makes Harry moan again and, “Jesus fucking Christ,” Niall bites out. He barely recognizes his own voice. 

“Harry, I’m -- Harry”. He thinks that’s a better warning than the one Harry gave him, at least, so he chalks it up as a win. 

“Shit,” Harry says once he’s crawled back onto the bed, the two of them sprawled in the middle of it like a couple of idiots. At least Harry’d had the foresight to yank a pillow down so they’re not fucking their necks beyond belief. “I know I slept for like, sixteen hours but…” 

It’s noticeably quiet in the room again. Niall closes his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says, just to say something. Just to fill the room. He feels like his limbs are made of lead. He wants a glass of water but getting up to get one sounds impossible. He fumbles for the blanket that’s bunched under their knees, dragging it up over him instead of trying to find where his shorts have landed. 

“Heyyyy. Sharing is --” 

Niall kisses Harry to shut him up. It’s surprisingly effective. He’ll have to remember that for next time.

**

“Harry!” he yells, hours later, once they’ve both slept and dressed and generally wasted a good chunk of the day away. Liam’s already home; Niall knows because he’s ignored several texts about the distressing lack of pie in their apartment. If Liam had wanted pie, he should’ve been home before breakfast, is what Niall thinks. “Can I use --” 

“What?” 

“Can --”

“I can’t hear you!” 

The apartment isn’t _that_ big; at least ten percent of this is Harry being a jackass. Fifty percent. Like, ninety percent. Niall takes the bait and walks into the kitchen.

“I’m using your computer,” he says, setting it down on the counter. 

Harry shrugs. “Sure.” 

It’s slow to wake up, the fan whirring as it tries to pick up where they’d left off in _Home Alone_. They hadn’t made it very far at all. Niall exes out of the program. 

“Do you want gravy on yours?” Harry asks. 

“I’m American, aren’t I? Gravy is my god-given right.” 

Harry chuckles as he turns back to the sandwich assembly line he’s got going on. Niall’s pretty sure cooks are supposed to wear shirts in the kitchen, but Harry’s never paid attention to those kinds of rules. Niall hasn’t either. It’s probably only because of everything that’s been going on with them that he’s even thinking about it now. God. He didn’t used to think this sort of shit.

He looks back at the laptop, pulling up Harry’s browser. His dad’s been bugging him all weekend about his Christmas flight times and Niall hates searching his email on his phone. He pauses when he sees what Harry’s got open in a tab. 

“Harry, did you --”

“What?” Harry comes around, elbowing Niall’s shoulder when he sees the screen, an old practice test for the GRE still pulled up. “Oh. It timed out.” 

“You got a 140? Don’t you get a hundred points for signing your name? Did you misspell your name on the practice test?” 

“I didn’t finish it, dickhead.” 

“Did you finish writing your name?” Harry’s rolling his eyes, laughing a little, while Niall looks between him and the screen, feigning worry. “Oh god, when you took it for real did you even put the right name? You know your real name isn’t Harold, right? No matter what Louis says.” 

“Alright,” Harry cuts him off, going back to the counter for their super-late lunch. Niall looks at the clock. It’s basically dinnertime. Harry gestures to his computer, asking, “Did you bring that out here to ridicule me, or…” 

“Oh no, this was just an added bonus.” 

They stare at each other for a minute, Niall grinning while Harry’s face stays carefully blank.

“I can eat both these sandwiches and then watch you cry because the fridge is empty.” 

“Fuck you.” 

Even though Harry bursts out laughing, Niall still snatches a plate as soon as he sets them on the table. No sense in risking it; he knows firsthand how bare Harry and Louis’s cupboards are, and there’s no way in hell Niall’s eating kale chips on a holiday weekend.

There’d been a moment, right after he’d woken up, when Harry’s hair had been in his mouth and the room had felt so, so still, that Niall thought everything would somehow be completely different. That today, of all days, would’ve been a line crossed too far. The point of no return. But maybe it’s just that this year has been such a fucking hellhole so far he can’t help but wait for the other shoe to drop. Foolishly, apparently, because this feels the exact same as every other afternoon he’s spent fucking around at Harry’s. 

“That’s the last of the turkey, by the way, so don’t waste it,” Harry says, flipping to the middle of one of the grandpa magazines he’s got lying around the apartment. Who the fuck subscribes to actual magazines? 

“And you were gonna waste it.” Niall clucks his tongue. 

“Me eating it is not wasting it.”

“It is to me!”

Harry kicks him in the shin. When he puts his foot back down, his toes are touching the arch of Niall’s foot. Neither of them pulls away. 

Niall finally finds his flight info and emails it to his dad. They sit in silence for a long while, Niall scrolling through different websites, Harry reading his latest issue of _Writers Weekly_ or whatever. It’s nice, but it starts to weigh on him, the quiet. He catches himself staring at the way Harry’s fiddling with his hair, readjusting his headscarf every five minutes.

“Wanna hear the latest bowl projections?” 

Harry scratches his nose. “Only if they’re good ones.”

“I promise to avoid any and all mentions of OSU.” 

Harry laughs. This is a level of noise Niall feels good about. He slumps lower in his chair, his knee bumping Harry’s shin. “Then hit me.” 

Niall clears his throat and starts to read the list.

**

“Seriously, I think we’re good,” Niall presses his phone to his ear so he can hear Jade over the wind. It’s fucking freezing and he forgot his earbuds at home. December is the worst.

“Are you sure?" Jade sounds hesitant. “Because this final is worth --”

“I know, but like,” Niall walks a little faster, wishes that he had taken Louis up on his offer of a ride home. “We’re in a good place, I think. We know our shit.”

“That’s true." Jade laughs, still sounding nervous. “Sorry, Niall, this semester has just been…”

“Yeah, tell me about it." They don’t really talk about it much, but sometimes Niall wonders if Jade and all of them have been living their own parallel universe of shit at the same time. Maybe Jade’s taken to hooking up with like, Leigh Anne to deal with the fact that Zayn lives with them most of the time. 

“Maybe we can meet beforehand? Go over it all again?" Jade asks, like Niall didn’t just spend two days in a row with her quizzing each other. 

“Sure. Of course. Just text me when." Niall has three other finals to worry about, but two of them are next week so he has some wiggle room. 

“Thanks, I will." Jade hangs up, and Niall shoves his phone back in his pocket, ducking his head against the wind as he walks the last couple of blocks home.

**

Finals are slowly killing them all, Niall’s pretty sure. 

“I should just call my dad now, tell him to get me a job.” Liam frowns at his computer. “I think I’ve failed three in a row, now.”

“Well at least you’re consistent?" Niall laughs when Liam shoots him a look. “C’mon, Liam, you’re being a little pessimistic.”

“I always get so excited for Thanksgiving,” Liam closes his computer, putting his head down on top of it. His voice comes out all muffled. “Because I forget how much of a hellhole the weeks after are before break.”

“You repress it buddy,” Niall sits at the table next to Liam, starts rubbing his back. “We all do.”

“Are you done?" Liam turns his head, resting his cheek on his laptop. “Are you safe?”

“With finals?" Niall laughs. “I’ve got one more and a giant paper, but the worst is over.”

He hopes, anyway. He feels pretty good about how things have gone so far, but he also wonders if he’s been so focused on all of it that he’s lost his perspective entirely. It’s a week out from break, a real break, and Niall can taste it, days at home with his mom cooking him whatever he wants and fuck else to do. And the bowl game, it’ll be --

“Did you book your flight?" Liam must be reading his mind. “Because I had lunch with Harry today and he said he and Louis did theirs last night.”

“Yeah, I did this morning." Niall had felt bad about the price of it, glad his dad had offered to cover half as part of his Christmas present. “Fucking expensive.”

“I know." Liam makes a face. “I went Spirit to save some money.”

“Why, because you like flying in a cardboard box?" Niall shakes his head. “Enjoy that, Liam.”

“It was like, almost a hundred dollars cheaper!”

“I just hope you actually make it to Florida alive." Niall pats at Liam’s back again. “Did you tell Sophia you booked her a nightmare?”

“Not yet." Liam looks nervous. “I was going to tell her tonight, over dinner.”

“Please don’t ruin our third annual Nophiamas, Liam." It’s probably the last one, Niall realizes. Not that he’d say that to Liam after Liam had nearly cried when he hung up their stockings under the TV the other day. 

“Maybe you can stay in your room tonight?" Liam groans. “Just in case.”

“I’m not going to lock myself up in my room,” Niall pulls out his phone, “I’ll just go somewhere else.”

He opens up the long line of texts he’s had with Harry over the past few days, hasn’t seen him since he left Harry’s place after Thanksgiving weekend. Harry had mentioned earlier maybe hanging out.

 _Tonight?_ Niall sends, looking up at Liam as he starts pulling stuff out of the fridge. 

“I think I’m going to make some pasta." Liam opens the cupboard. “Sophia likes pasta.”

“Sure, buddy." Niall watches the dots as Harry types.

_Come over, I’m making dinner for you and L_

Niall stands up, not bothering to respond. Harry knows he’s on his way. 

“Good news, I’m going to Harry and Lou’s." Niall palms Liam’s head, pulling him in for a hug since Liam still looks so distressed. “It’ll be fine, Liam. All of it.”

“Here’s hoping." Liam squeezes at Niall’s shoulder. “I’ll text you if I ruin it.”

**

“Niallllllll,” Harry singsongs when Niall walks into the kitchen, following Louis. “I’m making chicken stir fry. With _quinoa_.”

“I’m so sad I’m missing it.” Louis opens the freezer, pulling out a bottle of vodka and taking a quick shot, making a face. “You both wish I’d cook tonight.”

“You make _one_ good dinner, _years_ ago,” Harry says, at the same time Niall asks, “I thought you were staying for dinner?”

“Can’t,” Louis turns to Niall. “Doing a crawl, I’m nearly done so I’m rewarding myself.”

“Think you’re supposed to reward yourself after you’re all done,” Niall mimes a punch at Louis’s stomach. “Not just nearly done.”

“I’m rounding up,” Louis reaches up to tug at the scarf tied up in Harry’s hair, Harry ducking out of the way. “And you fucking _loved_ that dinner.”

“I was very young and very stupid." Harry puts his hand on his hip, holding the spatula out over the pan on the stove. “And now I’ve far surpassed your cooking skills.”

He uses his spatula to put quotes around “skills,” Niall laughing when Louis makes a disgusted face at the sauce that lands on his shoulder. 

“I’m trying to go out, stop fucking up my shirt.”

“You shouldn’t wear that shirt,” Harry says calmly, turning back to the stove. “I’m just helping you out.”

“He’s got a point,” Niall flicks at Louis’s shoulder. 

“Fuck both of you,” Louis grins, “I’ll see you never, I’m probably crashing at Oli’s.”

“Yeah, I’m not getting up in the middle of the night to let you in." Harry opens the cupboard above the stove. “Niall, you want some wine?”

“You have wine?" Niall shrugs out of his jacket, watching Harry open up the bottle. “Oh, looks like a good wine. That top twists right off.”

“He got it for $5.99." Louis pauses in the doorway when Harry flips him off. “What? Don’t tell me things then, Harry.”

“And no wine for Louis." Harry hands Niall a glass. 

Niall takes a sip. It’s not bad. “More for me then.”

“Christ. Okay, I’m out." Louis fucking salutes them both. “Niall, when are you leaving?”

“Same day as me." Harry answers, “Tuesday.”

“Yeah, Liam’s taking us to the airport, why?" Niall takes another drink. It really improves on a second taste.

“I’m done Friday, so I’m out Saturday." Louis smiles. “It’s the twins first Christmas, so.”

“Yeah, right." Niall nods. He stands up, setting down his glass before pulling Louis into a hug. “If I don’t see you.”

“We’ll meet again, in sunny Jacksonville." Louis backs out of the doorway. “Later, gators.”

“And then there were two." Harry grins over at Niall when he sits back down. “C’mon, Niall. You can be my sous chef!”

“Can’t I be your sous audience instead?" Niall gets up though, dutifully taking the knife Harry hands him. 

**

“This was really good." Niall drains the rest of his glass, feeling warm and full. Harry really is a good cook; he was expecting it to be a shitty dinner instead of feeling like he’s pregaming going home and getting good meals all the time. 

“I’m good sometimes, Niall." Harry leans forward, stacking both of their plates on the table. He turns up the volume on his playlist. It’s Christmas music, the same playlist that Harry has every year.

“Can we switch up the Sufjan a little?" Niall leans back, rubbing his stomach. “Something peppier?”

“There are peppy songs here,” Harry argues, reaching up and pulling the scarf out of his hair, shaking it out. 

“Sure." Niall kicks his leg out, doesn’t feel like moving to change the music. He’s gotten used to it, how there’s nothing really to watch whenever he hangs out at Harry and Louis’s. It feels calming now, actually, after all the stress of the week, the softness of the music washing over them both really nice. “Did you finish that paper?”

“Portfolio.” Harry corrects. “Many papers. And yeah,” he sighs. “I did.”

“So you’ve got…” Niall feels a little bad, knows that Harry had just texted him just how much he had left earlier in the week, but it’s buried in other shit like how Harry saw a squirrel that was a weird color or whatever the fuck.

“Just one final left." Harry turns his head, “it’s an in class written essays thing, but I’ll be good. It’s my modernists class.”

“And that’s good." Niall stretches his fingers out on the futon between them. “Right?”

“Yeah, it’s great." Harry laughs, low. “It’s my like, focus. My favorite era. As I’ve told you before.”

“Right." Niall nods, Harry nodding in return. Niall laughs. “Liam said you guys got your tickets?”

“Yeah, I had to force Louis to sit down and do it." Harry grimaces at the memory. “But we’re good.”

“Gator Bowl." Niall pushes his hand over, poking at Harry’s thigh. “I can’t believe we get a fucking great bowl for our senior year.”

“It’s gonna be sick." Harry covers Niall’s hand with his own. It’s so weird, how his palm is so hot but the tips of his fingers are like little icicles. 

“Don’t know if I’m gonna see you, before…." Niall’s breath hitches when Harry flips their hands, running his finger up the center of Niall’s palm. “Before our flights home.”

“Gotta get rid of some of this finals tension?" When Niall looks up, Harry’s smiling at him, biting at his lip. 

Niall nods, already leaning back when Harry moves to settle on top of him, licking his way up Niall’s neck before kissing him. It really does work, making out with Harry like this. Niall doesn’t give a fuck about his last final, doesn’t care if Liam’s fucking over their Christmas with Sophia in favor of being cheap. 

They haven’t done this, not much, Niall realizes when Harry sits up, grinning down at him before he pulls off his shirt. Niall wiggles out of his while Harry watches. It’s just been a handful of times, but Niall thinks they’ve worked out a good rhythm of it, moving together in point/counterpoint for a long, long time, long enough that Niall has to bite his lip when Harry reaches between them to palm Niall’s cock.

“Do we need to move?" Niall asks, watching Harry sprawl out and try to pull his jeans down over his erection. He pauses with his hands hooked in the waistband of his own, waiting for Harry to answer.

“What?" Harry’s flushed. “No, I mean, Louis won’t come back, and he’s fucked enough people on this futon.”

“Gross." Niall still kicks out his legs to push down his jeans and underwear, Harry standing and doing the same. “Get your socks off, you look like an idiot.”

“Same to you,” Harry laughs, Niall toeing them off before Harry launches himself on top of him again. It’s fucking startling; Niall realizes that it’s the first time they’ve been completely naked together. In the back of his mind, Niall knows that being bare ass naked with Harry in Harry and Louis’s living room is probably not the best idea, but then Harry slides his hands up Niall’s chest before burying them in Niall’s hair, licking into his mouth. So Niall doesn’t really give a shit. 

Harry’s got his legs on either side of Niall’s hips, and when he presses up, his cock pushes up along Niall’s, a wet slide. It makes Niall gasp into Harry’s mouth, and he runs his hands over Harry’s back and down to his ass, palming him there and pushing him forward. He urges him on like that, in a slow rhythm at first, then faster. 

“ _Fuuuuck_ ,” Harry sounds shaky when he pulls back a little bit from Niall’s mouth, breathing slow and steady like he’s trying to calm himself. A part of Niall wants to get Harry on his back, maybe suck him off, but they’re both steadily leaking precome to slick the way and Niall never wants Harry to move away, even for a second. It feels too fucking good.

“C’mon c’mon,” Niall urges him, Harry’s mouth finding his again when Niall grips his ass harder, pushing him forward so it’s faster, almost like Harry’s fucking along Niall’s dick. His fingers slip a bit, and Niall can feel just the tip of his middle one brush up against Harry’s hole. 

“Ohmygod,” Harry says out in a rush against Niall’s lips, and Niall realigns his grip, does it again more deliberately this time to see what might happen. He’s not sure what will work, so he just goes for a dry press, can feel Harry spasm against the tip of his finger when he goes entirely still and comes for what feels like a solid minute, his dick pulsing warm and wet against Niall’s. 

“Harry, I’m --” Niall’s so so close, feels slightly bad for how he’s still pushing Harry’s lax body against his, Harry whimpering a little when Niall thrusts against Harry’s softening dick in the mess of his come. It takes Harry a moment before he reaches between them, cupping Niall’s balls and pressing behind them before Niall groans, finally coming with a low groan. 

“What the fuck,” Harry whispers, his lips mushed up against Niall’s neck. He’s too heavy on Niall; his hand feels too harsh where it’s pressed against Niall’s cock. 

“Off. Harry. Off." Niall makes a face when Harry rolls off of him, Niall afraid to move too much when he looks down over the side of the couch, takes in how Harry’s dick is lying soft in the crease of his hip and there’s sweat and come covering his chest. Niall knows he looks the same.

“Oh fuck, the futon." Harry groans. “Niall, we gotta.”

“We’ll flip it over." Niall dangles his leg down over the side, rubbing his foot on Harry’s thigh. “No harm, no foul.”

“Much harm, much foul." Harry sounds exhausted. “Sophomore year. Louis and El were drunk. The other side probably looks way worse.”

Oh. “Well fuck." Niall stops moving his foot. “Guess we have to go shopping then.”

“Give me a second." Harry’s hand lands on Niall’s ankle. “Or like, a year. We can take Louis’s car.”

**

“Yesss, they restocked it!” Harry veers the cart toward the aisles at the front of Target. “The dolla spot!”

“Please don’t call it that,” Niall groans, following Harry as he starts sifting through the bins. “Do you really need more Christmas decorations?”

“They’re a _dollar_ ,” Harry holds out the garland. “What do you think, like...I should get five, probably? No, six. One of every color.”

“Harry, you and Louis are leaving in a couple days, more decorations wouldn’t make sense." Niall snags a couple of those boxes of panda cookies. Those are a worthwhile decision, at least. 

Harry rolls his eyes, dumping them in the cart anyway. “I can use them for next year.”

“Wherever you might be,” Niall says, regretting it immediately. Before Harry can react, his mouth turning down a bit, Niall pushes him aside and turns the cart down the next aisle. “Here, look at these Christmas potholders.”

“Niall, yes!” Harry grins, dropping them in the cart. “Oh, these are $3. I’ll only get a few.”

“Remember,” Niall warns, “this place is closing in half an hour and we have to get something to cover up the evidence.”

They’d done the best they could with a Tide pen before they left. It...wasn’t much of a help. Niall can’t say that he regrets it much, still feels a little shaky from how hard he came, nearly an hour later. His dick still feels sensitive as they walk around, even. When he looks over at Harry, he’s still got a little flush over his neck and what Niall can see of his chest where his coat and scarf are open a little. 

“Please, Niall." Harry shakes his head. “I’m good. Hey, let’s stop by the kitchen stuff, I wanna see if they have any cheap toasters, Louis broke ours the other day.”

By the time they make it to the houseware section, the cart is full and they only have ten minutes.

“Okay,” Harry looks at the wall of throws and blankets. “Let’s just get something that looks like it’ll fit.”

“So. That one." Niall points at the first throw he sees. “That looks good.”

“Sure, I like that color." Harry leans down, squinting at the price tag. “It is...$44.99? The fuck? Can Target even charge that much?”

“It’s from one of the designer collections,” Niall runs his finger over the fancy sign. “Let’s see what clearance has to offer.”

Niall maneuvers the cart behind Harry, and by the time he gets there Harry’s already holding -- “no, Harry.”

“It’s only $8.98, Niall." Harry holds out the throw all rolled up, some kids’ cartoon Niall’s watched with Theo before on the label. “It’s Doc McStuffins.”

“I can see that, but that is _not_ inconspicuous." Niall laughs though, reaching out and taking it from Harry. “It is nice and soft.”

“We could get the Bob the Builder one instead." Harry reaches for it. “Oh, but this one is more. Gemma’s explained to me a million times how the clearance pricing goes, I should call her and see if this will go down again.”

“In the next five minutes?” Niall stops Harry from pulling out his phone. “We’ll just get the McStuffins, it’s fine.”

“Louis won’t even notice, trust me." Harry takes it from Niall, tossing it into the cart. “C’mon, let’s go check out. Want to get some chips on the way? And maybe more of that wine?”

**

“It really is the perfect size." Niall watches Harry move a bunch of shit off of his bed.

“Yeah, and covers up our mess pretty well." Harry huffs out a breath, dropping an armful of stuff on top of his closed suitcase. “Sorry, I was trying to get a head start on packing.”

“No problem." Niall toys with the buttons on his shirt. “Hey, can I borrow a shirt to sleep in?”

It’s too late to go home and he’s tired; Harry had already assumed that Niall was staying when he brought it up, saying _duh_ enough times that Niall was forced to punch him in the arm. 

“Sure. Hey wait,” Harry holds up his hand when Niall leans down to sort through the pile. “I’ve got one.”

He walks around Niall to his closet, sorting through a pile and coming up with a shirt. It’s --

“Vintage Eagles!” Harry grins widely, holding it out. “I got it forever ago, I keep forgetting to give it to you.”

“Harry, I --” Niall takes it, runs his hands over the print on the front. Back when Louis had warned him, he wasn’t expecting this. Or, anything really. They don’t all exchange gifts, Niall only does it with Liam and Sophia as a joke. “I didn’t…”

“Please,” Harry pulls his own shirt off over his head, leaning down and coming up with a pair of sweats. “It cost me literally five dollars.”

“Fine." Niall tosses it on the bed, unbuttoning his own shirt and shrugging out of it, pushing his jeans down his hips before he pulls it on. It’s really soft, smells good. “Did you wash it?”

“Yeah, I finally remembered last week." Harry’s pulling his sweats up, rubbing at his chest. “You good?”

“Mhmm." Niall nods. He crawls into bed, curling up on the side he usually takes. “It’s warm in here.”

“I convinced Louis to turn up the heat last week." Harry slides in beside him, turning on his side and facing Niall. “It felt like I won a war.”

“That’s good." Niall adjusts his head on the pillow. “I’m so fucking tired.”

“Same." Harry makes a face like he’s stifling a yawn. “It’s been a long week.”

“Do you wanna watch something? Or." Niall’s jaw aches a little when he tries to swallow his own yawn. 

“Just sleep?” Harry laughs softly. “I’m good, plus I left my computer downstairs.”

“Maybe I should get you a gift this year,” Niall rolls his eyes. “A fucking TV.”

“TV isn’t everything, Niall." Harry shifts, his head moving to Niall’s pillow. “C’mere.”

“Sure." Niall doesn’t think he could go the distance on it, but he kisses Harry back anyway. It’s lazy and slow, Harry anchoring a hand on Niall’s cheek when he tilts his head to kiss him deeper. 

It’s nice, Harry kissing him slower and slower. Niall feels like he’s slipping under, might fall asleep with Harry’s tongue still in his mouth. He pulls away, laughing at how Harry’s still got his eyes closed.

“Go to sleep, fucker." Niall whispers, Harry’s lips pushing up in a smile.

“Was trying to,” Harry mumbles, his hand slipping down to rest on Niall’s chest, “but you were trying to get into my pants.”

“Fuck you." Niall pulls away, turning on his side and curling up. The room is dark and quiet and warm when Harry’s hand lands on his hip, just resting there as he slips under. 

**

Liam sniffles from the other end of the futon, and Niall’s snorts, it turning into a groan when Sophia elbows him hard.

“What?" Niall whispers, hopes that Liam won’t consider this breaking the rule of no one talking during _A Charlie Brown Christmas_. “I was just clearing my throat.”

“You were not." Sophia elbows him again, hard enough that the reindeer antlers she’d put on his head hours ago slip a little bit. 

“It’s just very touching, is all." Liam’s voice sounds shaky when he talks. “I just think --”

“Liam, I know." Niall adjusts the antlers, reaching over and tugging at Sophia’s halo. “Every year. It touches you every year.”

“And you don’t complain, _and_ you laugh every time at Snoopy’s dancing." Sophia points out, being very unhelpful. 

“Guys, it’s just not Nophiamas without us arguing over Charlie Brown." Liam stands up, turning off the TV. “Also, I was thinking --”

“No,” Niall says, Sophia already shaking her head, “we’re not renaming it, because first of all --”

Sophia holds up one finger. “You were the one who gave it the name,”

“Yes,” Niall cuts Liam off, “we know you were drunk, Liam.”

“And two,” Sophia holds up a second finger, “the M is from Liam --”

“And not Christmas, you giant jackwagon." Niall finishes, holding out his fist for Sophia to bump.

Liam sighs, like he does every year. “Fine.”

It’s their third year now of doing it, all of the dumb shit they lucked into sophomore year traditions now. It’s crazy, Niall thinks, as he watches Sophia and Liam try to decorate the sad ass reject tree Liam got from the place in town; Sophia and Liam had barely been dating a few months then. Niall leans forward, taking one of the cookies they’d made earlier; it’s the one he iced to look like a cock.

He sets it on his leg, angling it before taking a pic and sending it to Harry. _The 3rd Annual Nophiamas is going well_

 _Lol_ Harry’s sent back, with an eggplant emoji. A moment later a picture comes through, Louis facedown on top of the Doc McStuffins blanket.

 _Took it yesterday before he left_  
_He said it was soft_

Niall laughs, sending Harry a string of jizz emojis followed by a Christmas tree before locking his phone and shoving it back in his pocket. 

“Is it time for gifts yet?”

Liam grins, dropping the garland that’s weighing what looks like all the branches down. Sophia sighs. 

“Might as well." She says, sitting down on the floor next to the tree and staring at Liam and Niall until they join her. 

“Alright,” Sophia reaches under, “who’s first?”

“Me,” Niall grabs the largest one, a rectangular box he hands to Liam. “From me to you, Li.”

“Beautiful wrapping job." Liam says it every year, even though every year Sophia wraps everything the exact same for everyone. He rips it open, fumbling with the box and pulling out -- “Oh, _Niall_.”

“What the fuck,” Sophia starts laughing when Liam holds it up, the very first picture ever taken of them freshman year. They look like young assholes, snapped the picture after Niall had dragged Liam out to play tennis just to get him out of the room. It’s a frame that says “Dog’s Best Friend” along the top with paw prints, “WOOF!!” on the bottom.

Liam’s got tears in his eyes. “Niall, I’m putting this up wherever I go, always." He launches himself across the small circle they’ve got, Niall falling over and nearly decapitating himself on the table. 

“Alright,” Niall pats at Liam’s back. “I thought you’d laugh, buddy.”

“I love you too, Niall." Liam sits up, grinning at both of them. “Who’s next?”

**

“Thanks again, Liam,” Harry says, the words stretching around a yawn. It’s contagious, makes Niall and Liam start, too. Finals kicked all their asses this year. Christ, Niall feels like he could sleep for all of break.

“No problem,” Liam says eventually, his eyes squinted as he tries to read the signs for the departure terminals.

“He had to do it.” Niall points to the right sign, Liam nodding that he sees it, too. ”Otherwise he’d be stuck with both of us for the whole break.”

It’s a full minute before Liam says, “I said you could stay!” He tries to park close to the curb but the airport’s already a shitshow so the best he can do is idle in the middle of the second lane and make increasingly annoyed faces at the people honking for him to get out of the way.

“I know.” Niall claps him on the back and starts to get out of the car. Harry’s already unloading their shit from the trunk. “I was just busting your balls.”

“Merry Christmas!” Harry shouts his hand outstretched to bump fists with Liam. He’s leaning around Niall to reach, his hair tickling Niall’s cheek. Niall feels hot even though he can see his breath. He elbows Harry so he can have more room.

“Merry Christmas, Payne,” he says, shutting the door and grabbing his bag. Liam beeps once as he drives away. Niall and Harry start dragging their bags inside, dodging the masses of humanity. With any luck, the lines on security won’t be horrifying. “What time’s your flight leave?”

Harry looks at his phone. “In like, six hours.”

Niall lets out a low whistle as they get in line. They’d told Liam he could drop them off whenever was convenient for him, but six hours… gross. Niall’s lucky he’s only got like, four and a half until he boards. 

They make it through security in a decent amount of time. Niall laughs as Harry hops around after the checkpoint, trying to get his boots back on without sitting down. 

“And to think I was going to let you pick where we ate.” Harry straightens his jacket, the one that’s way too light to deal with the weather outside. It’s fucking nuts how he’s going home to seventy degrees and sunny. Niall knows Boston’s already got a foot of snow that’s refusing to melt.

The board says their flights are on time. Leaving from opposite ends of the terminal, but on time. 

“Where do you want to eat, Harry?” Niall asks as they start walking.

“I don’t really care,” Harry says after they’ve passed a third McDonald’s. He nods at the Chili’s sign a ways down. “There?” 

Niall shrugs. He doesn’t care one way or another, so long as the place has chairs and drinks and food. And a fucking Chili’s is way better than that fancyass wine bar Niall knows is like twelve gates away. 

“I’m getting a salad,” Harry announces after five seconds of reading the menu.

“And I’m getting home to five thousand texts about how you had to shit in an airplane bathroom.”

Harry makes a face. When the waitress comes back, he orders chicken. “And a margarita, please.”

Niall had been planning on just getting a beer with his burger, but changes his mind at the last second. Harry’s face lights up.

“I have _never_ \--”

“Sophia makes them all the time.”

“-- heard you order a strawberry margarita. Niall Horan, this is truly a momentous occasion.”

Niall rolls his eyes. “It’s Christmas, Harry.”

“And this is a Christmas miracle.”

When the margaritas come, they sure seem like a fucking Christmas miracle, each one the size of Harry’s head. Niall takes a quick picture of Harry tasting his and snaps it. _ho ho ho & a bottle of tequila_

“Oh shit.” Harry coughs. “That’s strong. Fuck.”

“Seriously?” Niall doesn’t believe him until he tastes his own. “Jesus.” He has to use both hands to lift his glass to cheers Harry. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

Two tables over, a mom turns to glare at them. Her glare gets even darker when Harry laughs loudly, cursing when he sloshes his drink on his lap. 

Niall’s sure the drinks are probably like, $18 each and that’s the only thing that keeps him from ordering a third one. 

“Don’t,” he says, when Harry looks like he’s going to. “Just the check, thanks.”

“Niallllllll.” Harry sticks out his lower lip. “We’ve got like… twelve hours until my flight leaves.”

“It’s like…” Niall makes a face at his phone.

“Does squinting make the math easier?” Harry teases.

“Shut up. It’s two hours until my flight. So four for you. Right?” He pauses, thinking. “Three and a half, really.”

“Twelve.” Harry nods, agreeing. Niall knows he’s a little drunk because of how the serious look on Harry’s face makes him start laughing, the uncontrollable kind that he can’t stifle. 

They’re not officially kicked out of the restaurant, but it feels like they have been, the way the waitress walks with them all the way to the exit. 

Niall feels warm, buzzed, as they wander around. Harry veers into a Hudson News and Niall follows because what else is he going to do. He flips through at least fifty different magazines while Harry carefully reads the backs of paperbacks, his lip caught between his teeth. He’s swaying a little where he stands, too, until he steadies himself with one hand on the nearby wall. Niall realizes he’s staring and shakes his head. Maybe he should buy a water or something. One for each of them.

“Are you getting anything?” Harry asks, finding Niall by a display of personalized keychains. There are plenty of Harrys and Liams and even a Louis. There’s never any Nialls. He doesn’t know why he checks every time, but he does.

“Nah,” he says, sending the display for a spin. The keychains rattle against each other before it comes to a stop on the end of the alphabet. Niall finds himself instinctively looking for a Zayn, just in case, which is ridiculous. Those are even less common than Nialls. He looks over at Harry. “How many books are you getting?”

“It’s a long flight!” Harry still ditches one before the register, and then gets increasingly crankier when he can’t find a way to stuff them all into his carry-on.

“Just wear your coat until you’re on the plane.”

“It’s too warm!” He’s not wrong. This airport is hot as shit, like they’re overcompensating for the below-freezing temperatures outside. 

Part of Niall is itching to unpack and repack Harry’s bag -- he’s known him long enough to know everything is just crammed in there willy-nilly. Probably has an extra sweater that isn’t even folded. But it’s not like Niall can lay everything out on the floor here like he does when he’s packing at home, so he just watches as Harry huffs and twists his jacket up, looping it through the handles of his bag. 

“Good enough.” His face is pink when he stands up again, his headscarf starting to come loose. They start up their long trudge down the terminal. Niall has no real desire to sit in those hard plastic chairs until his flight starts boarding. 

“Oh, hey, let’s go in here.”

Niall looks to where Harry’s pointing, one of those relaxation stations where some woman is getting a massage in one of those weird face-down chairs. He thinks he’d rather sit near the gate and watch his phone slowly die because the free outlets are all used up. “Uhhhh.”

“Come on!” Harry’s already heading inside though, wondering out loud if he should get a massage or a manicure. “What do you want?”

“Neither,” Niall says, even though he’s already standing near the counter with Harry. 

“Look, there are two chairs next to each other -- manicures, please.” He smiles widely at the woman behind the counter.

“Harry.” 

“What?” It’s funny, watching him try to find space for all his shit near the tiny table he’s been seated at. 

Niall gestures around the room. “Seriously?”

Harry just shrugs. There are other guys in here -- some dude in a suit is all the way at the end, talking on his bluetooth while a woman buffs his nails. “It’ll be relaxing. A good way to detox before we have to get on our flight.”

“We could’ve detoxed with another margarita,” Niall mutters as he sits down.

Harry looks at Niall sideways. “I wanted to, but _someone_ said no.”

Niall sighs, conceding the point. At least a manicure is cheaper than another drink would’ve been, and Harry’s right: the whole thing is pretty relaxing. Niall declines any nail polish despite Harry’s wheedling that he should get clear. That if they got clear they could match. 

“I’m not going home with painted nails, Harry,” he says. “I’d be laughed right out of Boston.”

“And then you could come spend Christmas in with me!”

“In the land of palm trees and sun? In December?” Niall shakes his head. “It’s unnatural.”

“Your face is unnatural.”

Niall winks. It makes his manicurist laugh, at least.

**

“We’d like to welcome aboard all first class members at this time.”

“Thank fuck.” Niall stands, stretching his legs. Even with all their fucking around, they’d still ended up spending far too long just chilling at his gate, waiting for his flight to start boarding. “Sorry you gotta wait another hundred days.”

“Eh,” Harry shrugs as he stands up, “by the time I get all the way down there it’ll probably be boarding. Hopefully. I’ll walk really slow.”

Niall snorts, which makes Harry smile. In the background, he hears his boarding group being called.

“I gotta --”

“Yeah. I’m gonna miss you.” Harry cups the back of Niall’s head as he hugs him goodbye. He’s talking so quietly that it makes everything he says sound strangely sad. It makes Niall realize just how much he’s going to miss Harry, too. This semester was fucking insane, but at least he had Harry the whole time. The eye of a hurricane. Or the lighthouse, maybe. One of the calm, stable things that are associated with hurricanes. “Merry Christmas, Niall.”

“Merry Christmas,” he says, hugging him tightly. “Safe flight.”

He brushes a quick kiss to Harry’s mouth, doesn’t even realize he’s done it until he’s hitching his bag over his shoulder. 

“You too,” Harry says. He doesn’t look horrified, at least not outwardly. He’s just smiling a little, waving as Niall walks away. Probably just stunned, the same way Niall is.

He can’t stop thinking about it the whole way down the gangway. Did he really just kiss Harry goodbye? What the fuck. It seems easier to turn his phone off now instead of waiting for the flight attendant’s orders. Safer. Smarter.

He drops into his seat, feeling overly warm. The cabin doors aren’t even shut yet but he’s already overwhelmed by the stale air. He’d kissed Liam on the cheek at dinner the other night, had kissed Sophia, too. But that’s… fuck, that’s different and he knows it. He hasn’t been hooking up with either of them for over a month now. He hasn’t --

It hits him like a ton of bricks, the realization that he hasn’t been hooking up with anyone _but_ Harry for weeks. Jesus. He grips the armrest, and not just because he hates the moment of takeoff, the feeling of weightlessness that hits his stomach before the rest of his body catches on. His brain feels like a circus right now, too many thoughts ping-ponging around.

Harry’s told Niall he’ll miss him hundreds of times. Breaks, weekends, when they’re going separate ways on campus. Niall has missed him almost all of those times, too, in an abstract way. In the way he misses everyone when they’re not around. He doesn’t -- he honestly doesn’t know if it’s the situation that’s different, or if it just _feels_ different because he’s thinking too hard about it. Is there even a situation? Probably, right? If he’s been hooking up with Harry exclusively since Halloween -- even if it wasn’t intentional -- then that qualifies as a situation.

Niall orders a drink as soon as the cart reaches him. He doesn’t care that he has to charge six bucks for a shitty jack and coke. The ice in the cup feels cool against his palm. Niall tilts his head against the window and tells himself he’s being ridiculous.

**

Being home is refreshing. Niall never realizes how much he’s missed it until he’s back, helping his mom wrap presents or taking his nephew to the mall to see Santa. Theo’s already seen him, of course, and he tells Niall over and over again while they wait in line.

“We don’t have to stay,” he says, but that almost makes the kid burst into tears. “We’ll stay, we’ll stay, don’t worry.”

Theo stops crying before he meets Santa again, but not before Niall manages to text a picture of his meltdown to Harry. 

_Torturing children? Now you’re gonna get coal_

_I’m going straight 2 heaven for this_ Niall sends back, along with the picture of him and Theo and Santa. 

The string of grinning faces Harry sends back is nothing short of absurd. Niall’s mid-air panic after the airport had been in vain. He’d landed and turned his phone back to the same onslaught of texts he always has from Harry, varying complaints about his flight being delayed and the books he’d bought being boring and how the girl next to him was eating carrot sticks dipped in salsa which she apparently brought onto the plane in a ziploc bag. 

Everything’s felt normal between them since. Sometimes Niall is extra-aware of the fact that Harry’s the only person he’s gotten off with lately, but he knows that’s a stupid thing to focus on. Like when you realize how much you really blink per minute and that’s all you can think about for a little bit. Not that Harry’s an automatic response, but… whatever. Things are normal, Niall’s glad.

 _Merry Christmas Eve!!_ Harry sends, separate from the group text where they’ve all already wished Louis a happy birthday.

“Niall James, do not even think about texting while you’re in church.”

“I’m not, Ma, jeez.” He ducks behind his brother to text Harry back. Greg, for once in his life, does not sell Niall out. Niall repays him by trying to squeeze the life out of his fingers during the Our Father. 

“Honestly,” their mom hisses when Greg twists his wrist, making Niall’s bones creak so hard he nearly doubles over, “this is the Lord’s house. How old are you two?”

Greg lets up enough that Niall can breathe again. He digs his thumbnail into the back of Greg’s hand in retaliation. Thankfully, Greg doesn’t make a fucking peep.

Late that night, back at his dad’s house, Niall gets a text from Harry. Apparently the Styles family opens a handful of presents on Christmas Eve, because the picture he’s sent is him modeling a new Packers hoodie.

 _Wish u were here_ Harry’s sent along with it. Niall does a double-take reading it, thinking of Harry hugging him in the airport, how his voice had been so soft. 

_Packers suck_ he sends back, the dots coming up almost immediately to show Harry’s responding.

It’s the angry face and a red little fireball emoji. Niall finds himself missing the way Harry’s face actually gets hilariously pinched when people talk shit about the Packers, or about him being a California kid who loves a fucking Wisconsin team for no reason. 

Niall sends back the winking face.

 _And to think I missed you_ Harry says.

_U love me_

The dots appear and disappear for what feels like forever, even though Niall knows logically it’s less than a minute. Eventually Harry says, _When does yr flight get into FL?_

Niall has to check. It’s in like, two days, he should really know this by now. _4:30_

_Oh nice! I get in at 3:30, I’ll just wait for you and we can get a cab together_

The suggestion makes Niall a lot happier than it has any right to. _Cool_ he sends back, before putting his phone on do not disturb.

**

“NIALL!” 

It’s the only warning he gets before Harry’s running full speed ahead, throwing himself at Niall like it’s been a hundred days since they last saw each other. 

“Jesus Christ.” Niall staggers under Harry’s weight, bracing himself in case they go toppling to the floor. People around them are staring. Harry waves at a couple of them, his dimples out in full force. “Good to see you, too, Styles.”

He feels special, quietly pleased that Harry’s so happy to see him. Not even Theo had been so enthusiastic when he got home. It’s nice to be wanted, he supposes. 

It lasts until they get to the hotel and Liam meets them in the lobby. Harry _actually_ knocks Liam backwards onto the floor with the force of his hug.

“Where’s Louis?” he asks, while the two of them are still lying on the floor. Harry, it seems, still has his arms wrapped around Liam, who appears to be lying there, resigned to his fate.

“Doesn’t get in until tonight. He said he’d meet us here, but after dinner, probably.” Harry flops off Liam and slowly climbs to his feet. Liam stays where he is for another minute, presumably catching his breath. “Did he do this to you, too?”

“No,” Harry scowls before Niall has a chance to answer. “Niall’s surgeon put a lot of work into that bionic knee. I wouldn’t fuck it up in the Jacksonville airport.”

“The airport was what stopped him,” Niall says dryly. He thinks it covers up the fact that he’s secretly glad Harry had been cognizant of not fucking up his leg.

“I figured we could get pizzas, get drunk here?” Liam says, finally getting up, leading them to the elevators. “It’d be cheaper, and we want to be at the lot early tomorrow.”

The game’s at a weird time, late enough that people can watch on TV but early enough that it’s not technically a night game. The shittiest part is none of them have a car, so they’re going to have to have a free-standing tailgate.

Niall and Harry exchange a look. “Works for me,” Niall says.

“Where’s Sophia?” Harry asks. He legitimately looks around the elevator like she might pop out of the walls.

“Her hotel’s a couple blocks that way? I think?” Liam gestures in a vague direction that Niall knows means she could be anywhere. “She told me like, a thousand times but the cab dropped me off first, so…”

Harry nods knowingly. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

Niall snorts. He already knows they probably won’t see much of her outside of tailgating. Their seats are in different sections and she’s here with her friends. Liam’s been adamant that this be a real vacation, just for the four of them. Lord knows they fucking need it.

That doesn’t stop Liam from shoving Harry into the wall, making the whole elevator shake. “You’re an asshat. I was going to say you should share a bed with Louis.”

“Deal,” Harry says immediately. Louis is the easiest sleeper of them all, curling into a ball and passing out. The only person better to share a bed with was Zayn and, well. 

“But I’m gonna make you share with Niall instead.”

“Hey,” Niall says. He’s a good bedmate. Harry’s the one who snores, and that affects the whole fucking room.

“Sorry,” Liam shrugs, a look on his face like he was forced into this decision. Niall still doesn’t understand how he’s the booby prize in all this. Not that Harry seems to mind. He shoots Niall a quick wink behind Liam’s back as he unlocks the door to their room. It makes Niall blush like Harry’d just copped a feel.

**

“LAST SHOTGUN OF THE YEAR!” Louis punches a hole in his can with enough force to spray beer everywhere.

“FUCK.” Liam gets the worst of it. “That’s cheating, half of it’s gone now! Get a new can. No -- finish that one and then we’ll do one right.”

He watches like a hawk as Louis finishes his first beer. The four of them are crowded in one portion of parking lot near a fence, two cases of beer at their feet. Their Uber driver hadn’t even batted an eye when they climbed in with with a stack of solo cups and the beers. Niall figures they were like, the seventh group he’d shuttled to the stadium already today.

It’s weird, how the crowd feels like a home game but the lack of an actual tailgate makes it feel like they’re away. Niall can’t believe this is the last time they’re going to be doing this and it’s strange as fuck.

“Last time as _students_ ,” Harry says, his finger in Niall’s face. Niall snaps his teeth, not actually attempting to bite it. “We’re coming back next year.”

“Yeah we are!” Louis yells. “And yes, Liam, that is an actual promise.”

“I wasn’t --” Liam makes a face and stops talking. He punches a hole in his can, waiting for Harry and Niall to do the same before he starts a countdown.

Niall thinks it’s the fact that it’s nearly eighty degrees in December, the sun shining in a way he he hasn’t seen since fucking Thanksgiving, that makes the beer taste better. His mood only improves once they’re inside the stadium and Louis smacks him in the arm, pointing to a line snaking its way across the concourse.

“Oh shit,” Liam says, his eyes so wide he looks like Theo on Christmas morning, “I forgot they serve beer here.”

“This is the greatest day of my LIFE,” Louis says, slinging his arm around Niall’s neck. A flash goes off and Harry makes a face at them.

“Sorry. Didn’t realize it was on.” He checks his phone and makes an even funnier face. “You’re just a couple of dark splotches. Let me take it again.”

“No, Harold.” Louis jogs away. “Call it art and say you meant for it to look like that. We’ve got beers to buy!”

**

By halftime, none of them are jogging anywhere. The game’s been close, too tense for any of them to leave their seats for beers. Louis sprints out of his with minute on the clock, shouting “I have to piss!” over his shoulder.

“THERE IS A MINUTE LEFT,” Liam shouts after him, but it doesn’t matter. The opposing QB takes a knee and people start leaving en masse. Niall slumps into his chair thankful that at least today it’s not a shitty metal bench. He pulls out his phone, idly checking his texts; Harry and Liam are doing the same while the band takes the field.

They only look up when Louis shuffles back into their row, four waters and a tray of nachos carefully balanced in his arms.

“Don’t give me that look, Liam,” he says, “the beer line was too long.”

“What look? This is my ‘god bless you’ face.”

“It looks a lot like your ‘I wish this were a Bud’ face.” 

Niall slides the nachos closer to him and Harry while they bicker. They taste amazing. Louis should’ve gotten two trays.

“After the game,” Harry says, “we should get tacos.”

Niall’s eyes go wide. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” Louis flicks Niall’s arm, getting his attention before taking the nachos back. Harry frowns. 

“You’re burning.”

Niall looks down at his arm. Ah, fuck. He presses his skin, watches it go white and then red again. It’s not too bad, at least not yet. “The sun’s setting. I’m sure the worst of it is over.”

“Yes what?” Louis says again, louder.

“Uhhh,” Liam taps Louis’s shoulder. He gets shrugged off.

“Harry said we should get tacos after dinner.”

“God yes. Do you think there’s a good place nearby?”

“Guys?”

“Liam?” Harry leans back to see him. Niall instinctively leans forward so he can keep talking to Louis.

“I was assuming like, a Taco Bell.”

Louis snorts. “You thought Harry Styles was going to eat at a Taco Bell?”

“He said tacos! It was the first place I thought!”

“I would pay to see it. Do you think he’d ask if their lettuce was organic?” Louis is cackling to himself even as he pulls up Yelp on his phone. “We’d get laughed out of the fucking place and I have been asked to leave enough Taco Bells in my life, thanks.”

“Oh shit,” Harry says.

Louis rolls his eyes. “It’s not _that_ big a deal.”

“Right?” Niall looks up in time to see Liam nodding, his eyebrows raised. Harry wasn’t talking to Louis.

“What?” Niall looks between them. Harry doesn’t say anything, just passes him Liam’s phone. 

Niall’s had Zayn muted on Twitter for a while now, so even if he had checked he wouldn’t have seen the fight he and Shahid have been having. Reading it makes him recoil a bit, the both of them slinging insults at each other. Niall rereads the last bit over and over, Zayn’s _stop pretending we’re friends no one knows you_.

“What the fuck?” Louis laughs right in Niall’s ear. It sounds a bit hysterical. The notification for a new tweet pops up at the top of the page. Louis taps to load it. Niall catches _you ain’t shit but a faker_ before he surrenders the phone to Louis.

He shakes his head, feeling stunned. It’s a weird mix of vindication and disgust coiling in his gut. He doesn’t want to watch whatever else unfolds, hating that he feels slightly glad. When he looks over, Harry’s brushing the salt of a nacho chip with his thumb. Niall opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn’t know what. He exhales a huge breath instead. 

“Not gonna lie,” Liam says, sounding exactly the way Niall feels, “now I’m kind of wishing you’d brought back beers, Lou.”

**

The rest of the game passes in such a frantic blur Niall doesn’t have time to think about Zayn calling people out on Twitter. He’s too busy screaming at their QB to fucking throw the ball, for fuck’s sake. 

No one else mentions it either, not while they’re waiting for a car to take them to dinner, not at dinner, not even when Sophia and her friends find them at some outdoor cantina that apparently has room for everyone from school. Literally everyone. Niall ran into six people from his freshman seminar in line for the bathroom. He’s pretty sure he saw Cara by the front door, but Harry had just laughed when Niall told him.

“Can you believe we fucking LOST?” Liam asks for probably the thirtieth time.

“It fucking sucked,” Niall says, the words coming out weird because of how Liam’s holding his face. “Fucking Corter, it’s been two years, you’d think he’d know how to hold onto the damn ball by now.”

“Fucking Corter.” Liam lets go of Niall’s face to grab his new beer off the bar. 

“Where’d Soph go?” Niall doesn’t see anyone they were with ten minutes ago.

Liam shrugs. “Different bar, I think. Said this one is too depressing.”

“I think they’re all gonna be depressing,” Niall says. It’d been a shitty loss. If he never sees game footage again, it’ll be too soon.

Louis appears, hitting the bottom of his beer bottle onto the mouth of Liam’s. “Fucking Corter!”

“Lou!” Liam makes a distressed face as the beer starts to foam out of his bottle and he has to chug the whole thing. Niall preemptively covers his bottle with his free hand. 

“My phone’s dead,” Louis says, trying to slip his hand into Liam’s pocket. “Give me yours, I want to check Twitter. See if Malik’s burned any more bridges today.”

That, Niall decides, is his cue.

“I’m,” he says, gesturing to where Harry’s standing a few people deeper in the crowd. Neither of them pay attention to him. He slips behind them, careful not to get clocked by Louis’s flailing arm as he protects his beer from Liam.

“What a day,” Harry says when Niall finally gets to him. “I really thought we would pull it out at the end.”

“Yeah.” Niall finishes his beer. He looks to the bar, trying to decide if he wants to fight through the crowd to get another one. He should’ve thought of that before he came all the way over here. Someone knocks into him and he lurches forward. Harry’s palm splays across the small of his back when he steadies him. Niall bites his lip, considering. “Do you want to --”

“Get out of here?” Harry finishes. “Please.”

Niall sighs, relieved. “I’ll text Liam,” he says, doing just that as he follows Harry right out the door.

**

“Hey,” Niall says, trying to ignore how hoarse his voice sounds from blowing Harry, “I just --”

“What?” If Niall’s voice is fucked, Harry’s is… Niall’s too hard to think of a better word for it, but Harry barely sounds human. “Where’re you going? Come back.”

“Gimme a second, Jesus.” Niall rifles through his suitcase, ignoring the slick sounds of Harry jacking himself off. “Hey, don’t --”

“You’re the one who left _me_.” Harry scowls when Niall knocks his hand off his dick. His eyes get even narrower when he notices Niall flicking the cap on the lube he’d dug out. “What are you --”

“I had an idea,” Niall says, before he repositions himself between Harry’s legs, guiding Harry’s cock back into his mouth. It’s enough to shut Harry up for five seconds, which is all Niall needs. 

Harry’s whole body jerks at the first, hesitant touch of Niall’s slick finger against his hole. “Fuck.”

Niall pulls off to ask, “Is it --”

“Yes,” Harry says immediately, just like Niall had figured it would be. He’s thought about it so fucking much, ever since he accidentally did it and Harry ruined the whole fucking futon. It’d made him feel fourteen again, jerking it in the shower at home so much he was worried his dad would flip out about the hot water bill. 

“Another,” Harry says, once Niall’s got his pointer finger in up to the second knuckle.

“What?” He pushes up on his free arm, working his jaw to ease the ache. It’s a mistake, maybe, looking up at Harry like this, because seeing him all spread out, working his hips like he can’t figure out if he wants Niall’s hand or his mouth more, makes Niall want to give up and just grind one out against the mattress. “Really?”

“Yeah, come on.” Harry drags his hand across his own chest, pinching his nipple and groaning when Niall pulls his finger out, starting to press two in on the next slide. “Jesus.”

Niall sucks at the head of Harry’s cock, thinking that might distract him from the stretch. It must, because Harry gasps and twists his free hand in the sheets. His thighs are shaking. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Harry starts chanting, his voice breaking when Niall’s fingers press deep. “Holy fuck, do that again.” 

“That?” 

“Yes,” Harry says, sounding wrecked, and maybe it’s Niall’s fault for taunting him, just a little, but the third time Niall does it, slow and steady, his fingers searching, Harry makes this strained, dying sound and comes, the first splash of it catching Niall right across the face. Instinctively he closes his eyes, Harry apologizing before he’s even finished coming. 

“I -- I wasn’t, I didn’t.” His voice gives out. He touches Niall’s chin carefully. 

“If you rub it in, I swear to god.” 

“I wasn’t going to!” Harry drops his hand and then Niall feels the soft brush of a t-shirt so he can wipe off his face.

“Sorry,” Harry says again, once Niall can look at him. He thinks Harry’s chest might be as red as his own is. They really must look like a pair. “At least I think I know how to make it up to you?”

Niall watches as Harry reaches for the lube. He feels like his heart’s going to beat right out of his chest.

**

“This was,” Harry says, throwing his leg over Niall’s hip, “without a doubt, my best idea ever.”

“Yours?” Niall laughs into the kiss, planting his hand on Harry’s chest to put some space back between them. “Every part of this was my idea.”

He still feels shaky, raw, like Harry’s still got his fingers inside him and his mouth on his balls. It’s… Niall doesn’t know if he’s ever come that hard. He’s getting little shivering fits up his spine like tiny aftershocks even now, after they’ve cleaned up and gotten dressed. Well, Niall’s dressed. Harry got distracted looking for clean boxers and is still stark naked.

Not that Niall minds. Harry’s a warm weight settled on top of him, pressing him back into the soft mattress. It’s so much nicer than either of their beds at school. 

“I said we should leave the bar,” Harry says.

“I started to say it.”

“And I finished it.” Harry kisses the curve of Niall’s neck. He has the tiniest bit of stubble -- not enough that it should even count as stubble, really, but the scrape of it still manages to give Niall goosebumps.

“Fine,” Niall threads his fingers through Harry’s hair, “you get half a point.”

He can feel when Harry smiles against his skin. “Victory.”

Niall tugs on his hair, urging him back up for a kiss, when he hears the distant thunk of the door opening. They latched the door, right? Harry pulls back, his eyebrows raised like he’s wondering the same thing when Liam says, “Oh my god.”

Niall closes his eyes. 

“Harry, why is it always your bare -- _Niall_?”

The door swings shut with a loud thud. When Niall opens his eyes, Harry’s shifted just enough that Liam and Louis have a clear view of the both of them. Liam, at least, has one hand clapped over his eyes. Louis’s mouth is still open, like his brain broke mid-sentence.

“Hi,” Harry says, very quietly. Niall can feel the blush spreading all the way down to his toes.

Louis takes a deep breath and looks up at the ceiling. “We are going back in the hall. When we come back in in three minutes, I swear to god everyone had better have all their clothes on.”

“Shit,” Niall says after the door’s swung shut again. Harry rolls off him, already reaching for his underwear. He steps into a pair of sweatpants and tosses Niall a shirt before he tugs one over his own head. 

They’ve barely had a second to breathe, the two of them sitting on the edge of the bed when Louis comes slamming back in, shouting, “Honestly did you even _think_ about how this was all of our room?”

“What?” Harry asks. “We didn’t like, hook up on your bed, Louis, come on.”

“Lou,” Liam says, deadbolting and then latching the door like Niall wishes he’d thought to do earlier. “He just means it would’ve been nice to have a warning or something.”

“Sorry,” Niall says, hoping a joke will make everything better. “Next time we’ll put a sock on the door.”

Louis’s eyebrows go so far up it’s like they’ve shot off his face. “Next time? There’s a NEXT TIME?”

Harry makes a jerky motion that Niall supposes could be a shrug. “We haven’t --”

“Was there a before time?” Liam asks, which doesn’t make any fucking sense to Niall but Louis must understand exactly what he means because his jaw drops open and he says, “Has this been a -- a _thing_ for you two?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry says, while Niall nods. Liam and Louis both look taken aback.

“Since when?” Louis asks.

Niall glances at Harry sideways. They’re sitting close enough that Niall could touch his knee if he wanted, or could lean into his shoulder. He doesn’t dare. “Halloween.”

“Are you kidding me?”

Liam’s jaw drops. “You were at Harry and Louis’s on Halloween! We walked home from there the next morning!”

Louis makes a face like he’s remembering that morning, too. Like he’s remembering Harry and Niall bailing on them at that stupid fucking party. Like he’s remembering them abandoning them while they fought with Zayn. In hindsight, Niall can see how it might seem like a bigger offense than it actually was.

“We were really drunk,” Niall says, “it just… sort of happened.” And then kept happening, he doesn’t say.

“But why would you keep it a secret? I thought,” Liam looks at Niall, “you’re my roommate.”

“That… I still am.” 

“Halloween was two months ago,” Louis points out. He’s taken to pacing the room.

Liam’s shoulders slump; he’s sitting on the bed opposite them and somehow Louis’s math has made him look even sadder. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“So let me get this straight,” Louis says, “I get dumped, one of my best friends fucking disappears in the middle of the night, meanwhile Liam’s got his perfect girlfriend --”

Liam looks surprised that he’s being called out. “Me?”

“-- and now it turns out you two are hooking up behind my back for half the fucking semester?” Louis spreads his arms wide. “What the actual fuck?”

Niall doesn’t know what to say. Judging by the silence, Harry doesn’t, either.

Louis laughs hollowly. “Just when I thought this year couldn’t get any fucking worse! Turns out _I’m_ the only one who doesn’t get to have good things happen for him. I’m the only fuck-up.”

“This isn’t cool, guys.” Liam shakes his head. “Big secrets like this aren’t cool.”

Of all the ways tonight could’ve gone, Niall def hadn’t expected this. Liam looks devastated, like they’ve betrayed him in the greatest way, and Louis… Niall doesn’t even know what the fuck’s going on in his brain.

It hurts, physically hurts, when Louis looks him square in the eye. He looks dead inside, like he’s been beaten down so much that there’s nothing left. Niall looks at the floor. He cringes when Louis says, softly, “What the fuck?”

Harry exhales loudly. Louis must be giving him the same look. “Can we just -- can we all just go to bed? It’s really late, and --”

“Yeah,” Liam says. “I think that’s probably a good idea.”

The room is eerily quiet as they each take turns in the bathroom. Louis is last, and Niall can feel him standing there, watching as Harry crawls into bed with Niall. He’s careful to leave plenty of space between them. 

Even after Louis finishes up and switches off the light, Niall holds himself rigidly. He wonders how long they all stay awake like that, staring at the ceiling, none of them moving a muscle.

**

He feels like he hasn’t slept a wink when Harry nudges his arm. The room is so quiet, just the familiar sound of Liam’s steady breathing coming from the other bed. Niall looks that way first, checking that he and Louis are both still out cold.

“Breakfast?” Harry asks when Niall finally turns to him. He’s out of bed already, wearing a hoodie. Niall knows his flight leaves early, that he’s probably already packed so he and Liam can head straight to the airport like they planned. He nods and carefully rolls out of bed, grabbing his jeans and a clean shirt.

It’s not until he’s in the bathroom that he realizes the shirt he’s grabbed -- the only clean one he has left in his suitcase -- is the fucking Eagles shirt Harry gave him for Christmas. Niall pulls it on, feeling sick to his stomach. 

He splashes more cold water on his face. It’s proof of an angry god that he’s got a hangover banging at the back of his skull, but Niall knows he probably deserves it.

Harry’s waiting for him in the hall. He smiles a sad, quiet smile when he notices Niall’s shirt, but that’s it. Somehow, it manages to make Niall feel ten times worse. 

Neither of them says anything as they make their way to the lobby where they split up to fill their small plates with food from the continental buffet. Niall stares at his sad toasted bagel and green cantaloupe and wonders how the fuck they’re gonna get out of this mess. He remembers the time last year when Harry’d been home for Easter or summer break or whenever and had gotten so drunk he ended up puking on the side of the highway the next morning, had sent a text to the whole group saying he was never drinking again. They’ve all made that claim a thousand times in their lives but right now Niall wonders if maybe sobriety is really the key to everything.

His bagel’s almost gone by the time he’s worked up the nerve to say anything. 

“That… sucked.” It’s not eloquent, but it’s true.

Harry nods. He’s got both hands wrapped around a mug of hot water with lemon. “I didn’t expect that. I guess I never really thought about what they’d say? I just know it wasn’t that.”

“Yeah.” Niall can’t stop thinking about Louis pacing the room like a caged animal. They’ve spent so much time this semester worrying about him and without even trying, they managed to make it a million times worse. “I think,” he pauses to breathe, making sure he knows what he’s going to say, “we have to stop this. Us.”

“I know.” Harry looks up from his mug. “I was… I woke up at five and couldn’t stop thinking about it. It’s not -- I don’t -- they were so hurt, Niall. I didn’t want that. And I know you didn’t, either.” 

He sounds the same level of upset Liam had sounded last night, like he’s uncovered a deep well of sadness within himself. Niall stares out the window, directly into the blinding sun. 

“I just want us all to stay friends,” Harry says, “like, real friends. Best friends. We’ve only got a semester left and then it’s over. I don’t want to fuck anything up.”

He’s said it better than Niall ever could, and for that, at least, Niall is grateful. All he can do is nod. 

They sit there in silence for a long time. Neither of them finishes their breakfast.

**

Louis takes a shower after Harry and Liam leave. Niall’s glad it gives him twenty minutes of quiet. He’s dreading the ride to the airport.

He watches the Terps get crushed in the fucking Belk Bowl with the volume on mute. It’s bullshit that the game is even on this early; what’s the point of having a bowl game if no one watches it?

All his muscles tense when he hears the water shut off. Louis’s bag is on the foot of his bed, waiting for him to chuck his dirty clothes in and that’ll be it, they’re all splitting up again for the year. Niall hadn’t hugged Harry or Liam goodbye, had just stood there sort of waving as they backed out of the door. He hadn’t felt that awkward since he moved into his and Liam’s dorm freshman year.

“Yesterday was a real shitkicker, hey?” Louis says, coming out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam. “The horror of the loss. The horror of you and Harry and Harry’s bare ass.”

“Shut up, Lou,” Niall says. He’s not in the mood. He knows Louis is upset but he can’t deal with it right now. He knows he can’t be nice about it. “Don’t -- me and Harry talked this morning, it’s not gonna happen again, okay?”

“Oh.” Louis is quiet for a long stretch. Niall can’t seem to make himself turn and look at his face. He doesn’t think he could stand to see him looking pleased, not when Niall feels so miserable. He pulls up uber on his phone instead, requests a ride to the airport. Seven minutes till it arrives. “Okay.”

Niall nods. It’s done. Just as easy as calling a car. He reaches for his bag. “Our ride’ll be here in a few minutes. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”


	4. Chapter 4

Niall’s waiting in baggage claim when he gets the text from Liam.

_In cell lot let me kno when ur ready_

It takes Niall a second of staring at his phone before he can gather himself enough to reply. He had been planning on getting a taxi outside, hasn’t talked to Liam since they’d awkwardly waved goodbye that morning nearly two weeks ago. He hasn’t talked to anyone, really. He figured after their long silent ride to the airport Louis knew enough to not try anything.

_5 minutes, I’ll be at door 3_

He’s only talked to Harry once. He’s not sure if it classifies as talking. Or anything, really. It doesn’t fucking matter. Getting a text from Harry at midnight Boston time to wish him a Happy New Year doesn’t count. Even if he’d set an alarm for three AM to text him back the same. 

It seems like Liam pulls up extra slow to the curb. Niall knows he’s walking extra slow to the car, nearly flipping off the asshole who honks at him when he shuffles around to the trunk to shove his shit in. He takes a deep breath before he closes it up. 

“Hey." Liam reaches out, cranking up the heat a little more when Niall settles in. Like it hadn’t been below zero when Niall left Boston. He takes another deep breath.

“You better go, before that jackoff tries to rear end you." Niall fakes like he’s looking at the side mirror to see what the guy is doing, but he just catches his reflection instead. It’s not quite bright enough for his Ray Bans, but he keeps them on anyway.

It’s silent except for the low volume of the radio that Liam’s set, Niall feeling awkward as shit as Liam maneuvers out of the airport through the crush of cars. Liam’s already on the highway by the time Niall speaks again.

“I would have taken a cab." Niall knows how it comes out; he knows that he shouldn’t sound so pissed. He’d worked himself up for this, had told himself he’d be fine. That he’d be nice and they’d be nice and everything would be okay again. Like nothing happened. But now, being in the too hot fucking car with Liam and remembering everything...he’s still feeling like he can’t control himself. Like he should probably apologize but he doesn’t fucking want to.

“Yeah, well." Liam sounds so fucking butthurt. “I _told you_ I would come. Before.”

“Man of your word, Liam." Niall finally closes the vent that’s been blowing right in his face. He feels cold again, immediately. 

“I am.” Liam’s voice sounds really weird, not like himself, when he continues, “At least that makes one of us.”

“Yeah,” Niall snorts so he doesn’t do anything else, “I guess I forgot about how one time I promised you I wouldn’t hook up with Harry and then went back on my word.”

“That’s not --” Liam shakes his head in Niall’s peripheral vision. “Fine. Whatever. I thought we could talk, but I guess not.”

“I can’t talk if you’re going to make shitty little comments, Liam." Niall sneaks a glance over at Liam, who’s biting his lip and blinking hard as he drives, sitting ramrod straight. Niall sinks down a little bit in his seat. “Just. I know we need to talk. Can we just get home first, please?”

Liam turns and holds his gaze on Niall for long enough that Niall’s itching to tell him to keep his eyes on the road like he would usually.

“Yeah." Liam sounds a little less like he’s about to cry when he turns back to face the wheel. “Of course.”

“But,” he adds, just when Niall’s about to slump back in his seat, “we are talking when we get there.”

**

Liam, at least, lets Niall drop his shit in his room before he’s there in Niall’s doorway, looking anxious. 

“So, ah, how was the rest of your break?" Liam asks, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. Niall knows it’s one of his nervous tells.

Niall looks up from where he was crouched in front of his suitcase, his knee screaming at him as he fights with the zipper. His mom had packed some food in there and he doesn’t want to forget. While Liam just stands there he gets up carefully, his knees creaking loud in the silence before he sits on the bed, trying to calm himself enough that there won’t be a repeat of the car.

“It was…” Niall knows this will set the tone of how the rest of the talk goes. He bites back a sigh. “I mean, I’ve had better breaks.”

It’s the best he can manage. Besides, he’s not gonna lie when it fucking sucked.

“Yeah?" Liam makes like he’s going to step fully into Niall’s room, but stops himself and shifts to the other side of the door instead. “Mine wasn’t great, either.”

Niall nods. “Was your flight back here from Florida okay?”

“That’s --” Liam laughs, sounding surprised. “That was almost two weeks ago, Niall, you’re just wondering now? My phone works, you know.”

“Well, mine does too." Niall realizes how that sounds, cutting Liam off before he can say anything, “To receive stuff, I mean. Like, calls and texts. I didn’t get shit from you.”

“Louis told me you didn’t talk to him at all after we left." Liam opens and closes his mouth a few times, finally striding into the room and sitting heavily in Niall’s desk chair. It creaks. He looks at Niall in the eye, and Niall fights to not look away.

“Why would I --” Liam shakes his head as he continues, “I guess I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”

“And you wanted to talk to me?" Niall asks, remembering the slump in Liam’s shoulders in their hotel room that night. How betrayed he still looked in the morning.

“No, but." Liam leans forward, his elbows on his thighs. “I thought maybe, you’d want to, I don’t know, talk...Louis said that you said….and Harry told me on the way to the airport…”

He’s talking in half sentences, but Niall is fluent in Liam after so many years. He gets the gist of it. It’s really hard not to immediately ask what Harry said to him, exactly.

“I thought Louis told you I _didn’t_ talk to him." Niall goes for the shitty approach. He’s not proud. 

Liam gives him a look of disappointment that Niall has definitely seen on Karen Payne more than once over the years of Payne family dinners. 

“You know what I mean, Niall." Liam sighs. “Like...I guess I just don’t get why you didn’t tell me?”

Niall can actually _feel_ himself freeze up. And in front of Liam, who’s most definitely seen him at his worst many times over the years. He knows that there has to be a point that they get over this weird stasis; that it’s all he wants. He wishes he could make himself try more.

“There wasn’t anything to tell,” Niall mumbles, looking down. He takes a deep breath, can hear that Liam’s scooting the chair a little closer. He continues, even though he’d rather give up beer for the rest of the semester.

“Nothing,” Niall looks up, Liam’s face looking like he’s not quite on board with it, “seriously, it just happened a few times, and it wasn’t...it’s not happening again.”

“It’s just…” Liam frowns slightly, “after everything with Zayn, I don’t know, it felt like you didn’t want to tell me? Like how Zayn stopped saying things? It just was...weird.”

“I’m _not_ like how Zayn was,” Niall wishes his voice didn’t sound so shaky, “neither is Harry. It sort of...I don’t know, things were so shitty for so long, we never wanted to make it worse after everything.”

“I’m not saying you’re like Zayn,” Liam says quickly, “I’m not saying that.”

Niall shakes his head at Liam when Liam gets up, but Liam sits next to him on the bed anyway, dropping his too heavy arm on his shoulder. 

“I’m not." At least from this angle Niall can’t see Liam’s face. “But like, Niall, what if you found out that Louis and I have been secretly doing each other for months and hiding it? What if you _saw_ it?”

“I’d say that it’s nice you’ve got a best friend with benefits." Niall tests out a joke. Liam’s hand squeezes his shoulder slightly.

“Fuck,” Liam laughs. “But I’m not, for the record. Sophia --”

“Yes, Liam, I know." Niall turns his head slightly, just enough that Liam can see his face when he says, “Liam, I really...there wasn’t anything to tell.”

“Okay." Liam doesn’t sound convinced.

“It’s just Harry,” Niall insists. It keeps feeling weird, saying his name when he’s barely said a word to him. “And it’s not happening again.”

“Okay." Liam says again. 

“We’ll all be fine." Niall leans away from Liam. “Are we? Cool now?”

“I don’t know if…” Liam makes a face; Niall knows that Liam needs at least an hour more of a heart to heart. But Liam also knows when Niall’s hit his limit.

Usually.

“But like….you said Halloween." Liam drops his arm and shifts until he’s turned to face him. Niall closes his eyes. “Was it, like…”

“D’you want details?" Niall’s neck cricks weird when he tries to look at Liam so he turns too, his knees bumping into Liam’s as they jockey for position. “I mean, you’ve seen Harry’s junk, so…”

Liam closes his eyes like he’s trying to gather himself. “No. No. I wasn’t. No.”

“So no?" Niall snaps his fingers in front of Liam’s face, startling him enough so he’ll open his eyes. “But really, I don’t know what you want to know.”

“I don’t either, but it’s like…” Liam shakes his head, biting at his lip. “It was _months_ , Niall, and I didn’t...you didn’t say anything. We’ve all hung out a million times, I didn’t even notice.”

“There wasn’t anything to notice." Niall shrugs when Liam gives him a look like he’s not buying it. “Liam, it wasn’t even...it didn’t happen that _much_ , it just was like, a way to blow off steam. I guess. After everything.”

“So like, friends with benefits? Or something else?" Liam still looks confused, and Niall knows that he’s trying really hard to get it, but Niall doesn’t know how to explain. Like he didn’t spend nearly all of Christmas break trying to figure everything out, ultimately coming up with nothing. 

“I guess? Yeah." Niall sighs when Liam opens his mouth again, looking like he’s about to ask another shitty question. “I was just hanging out with Harry a lot, is all. Just like you were with Louis?”

“Well, not _just_ like I was with Louis." Liam shakes his head, his eyes wide, and for the first time Niall feels like when he starts to laugh, it’s real. 

“I just mean, it...I really don’t know what else you want me to say here, Liam." Niall straightens his shoulders, meeting Liam’s eyes fully. “If it’s not going to happen again, then what’s the point? I don’t really…”

“I was just upset because of the secrets, after everything." Liam turns his head and takes a deep breath before he continues, “I wasn’t...because of you and Harry?”

“But,” Liam looks back at Niall, “I think it’s probably for the best, considering? We’re already a man down, and it really fucking sucked, that night.”

“I know." Niall realizes that he’ll probably have to have this same conversation with Louis. He wonders when he’ll be ready for it. Wonders what he’s gotta do to talk to Harry again like they used to. “It was bad.”

Niall scratches at the back of his hand, looking down. The worst part of everything is that normally this is the sort of thing that’d make him want to go and talk to Harry about it all first. Have Harry distract him, make him feel like it’s not that shitty. 

They don’t speak for a moment, Liam looking just as lost in his own head as Niall feels.

“I guess I’ll let you finish unpacking?" Liam stands up, patting Niall’s shoulder as he passes. 

“Thanks, Li." Niall smiles at him, feeling grateful it’s over and the two of them might be okay.

Liam turns around in the doorway. “But, uh, I just have one more question?”

Niall sighs. “Yeah?”

“You didn’t...like…." Liam makes a face. “My parents house? Thanksgiving?”

Niall stares at him for a moment.

“Yeah Liam, right in your childhood bed. No, I’m clearly fucking with you, Jesus Christ." Niall wishes he had something to throw at Liam’s dumb face. “Get out of here, we’ll order pizza after I’m done.”

Liam gives him a thumbs up and disappears, and Niall unpacks and doesn’t think about Harry that Thanksgiving weekend, hooking up with him stone cold sober. How quiet it was. 

**

“I just think it’s fucked,” Eoghan gestures with his glass as he talks, a little bit of beer splashing on the table, “that we were both home over break and I don’t see you until we’re both back here.”

“C’mon, hold yourself together,” Niall takes a long drink of his own beer. “It’s not my fault that you don’t give a shit about football.”

“I know I joke about how football games never end,” Eoghan raises his eyebrow, “but I know that bowl game didn’t last for weeks.”

“Fuck off,” Niall shakes his head, laughing when Eoghan gets up for another round. He wishes the rest of the Boston crew could have come out tonight, although he suspects they would have some of the same complaints. They’d all hung out more those first couple years, back when it was nice to see people from home even though they never met until leaving Boston entirely. Back before school became more like home, and all their respective friend groups felt like more than just that. 

He also knows that with the way the last couple months of fall semester went, he’d seen them even less than before. Not necessarily because of the Harry stuff -- Niall can’t say that he ever broke plans with them all more than maybe twice in favor of hanging out with Harry, but it’s definitely tapered off. 

Now that he’s four months out from being done entirely and still feels awkward enough he’s not been able to reach out to Louis or Harry in the few days since he’s been back, it made sense to try and get the Boston crew together just to get out of the apartment for more than just class. Although it’s been good, hanging out with Liam one on one more than they have in longer than Niall can remember. Especially once Liam stopped giving him those weird looks when he thought Niall wasn’t paying attention. Things feel more settled, now. Liam even called him his best roommate the night before when Niall picked up tacos for them on his way home. “I’m your only roommate,” Niall had said, but he knew what a big deal it was.

The rest will follow, Niall thinks. Hopes. He’d almost texted Harry earlier when he nearly tripped over someone chalking up the sidewalk outside of the science building, but didn’t think to take the pic in time. Harry will probably text him once he’s ready. Maybe he’s been busy, just like Niall. Spending all his time with Louis to try and make things right. Doing his part. Niall knows that he hasn’t been seeing Liam.

When Eoghan shows up again, he’s not alone.

“Look who I saw talking to Miss Whitmore at the bar?" Eoghan’s got his arm around Louis, who looks slightly uncomfortable as he smiles at Niall.

“Hey, Lou,” Niall half stands to scoot over, but Louis shakes his head and sits across from him, taking Eoghan’s seat. He doesn’t look like he’s been off on a bender, so that’s good.

“Hey." Louis passes his drink back and forth in front of him on the table. “Oli just fucked off, and I ran into Laura at the bar. I figured you’d be around.”

“Where is Laura?" Eoghan asks as he wanders off, leaving Niall alone with Louis. 

“I didn’t know she was here, either,” Niall starts, feeling lame. “She hadn’t said she’d come, so.”

“Guess I wasn’t invited." Louis tilts his head back, getting that look Niall hasn’t seen since the worst of the Zayn shit. 

“Louis, c’mon." Niall meets his eyes instead of desperately looking around for wherever Eoghan’s ended up. “It’s not like that and you know it.”

“Yeah yeah." Louis sighs, taking a long drink. When he sets his glass back down, it’s a little less than gentle. “Likely story.”

“You’ve been okay?" Niall’s not sure how else to bring it up and he knows he has to. “The rest of your break was okay?”

Louis snorts. “You give a shit?”

“You know I do." Niall doesn’t feel like dancing around it, playing shitty games until one of them breaks and says something they don’t mean and can’t take back. 

“Right." Something in Louis’s face changes then, looks less like he’s about to punch Niall in the face. “It was fine, spent a lot of time with the girls. And the Ernie.”

“They have a good Christmas then?" Niall laughs, thinking about Theo ripping through his gifts. “Theo was like a tornado, he couldn’t handle himself." He’d been so preoccupied with the game and Harry in Florida, he realizes, that he’d never even asked Louis how that went.

“Yeah, my man Ernie and Doris had no fucking clue what was going on, but they rode the excitement wave all the way to spitting up all over me." Louis laughs. “It was fucking disgusting.”

“Better than Liam." Niall makes a face when he remembers the time they did a Jager train and Louis ended up covered in the most horrifying colored puke Niall’d ever seen. 

“Why did you bring that up, I’d repressed it." Louis reaches over and flicks at Niall’s shoulder, hard. “Remind me to get on Liam about that later.”

“Sure sure." Niall finishes off his beer, the two of them sitting in silence for what feels like far too long. “Classes been okay?”

“Yes Mom,” Louis’s voice goes sharp and sarcastic. “I’ve been a very good boy. Not skipped a one.”

“Fuck you,” Niall laughs, “I’m just trying to like, be polite.”

“Yes, it’s one of your strong suits." Louis snorts, looking away for a second before meeting Niall’s eyes. “You talk to him much? Harry?”

“Um.” Niall wishes his glass wasn’t empty so fucking much. “You’d know, wouldn’t you? We’ve all been busy.”

“Can’t trust my own two eyes with you two, can I?" Louis says it lightly, quietly. 

“Listen, I said --”

“No no, I was being a dick, I’m sorry." Louis takes a deep breath, running a hand through his messy hair. “Whatever the fuck it was, I know it’s done.”

“Right." Niall nods. “Got it out of your system now? It’s all out now. It’s all done.”

“Yeah." Louis smiles, and it looks less sharp. “I’ll shut my fucking mouth. Want another?”

He’s gesturing toward Niall’s glass, and Niall nods. He watches Louis make his way through the crowd before pulling out his phone.

 _Ran into Louis out_ he sends to Harry before he can second guess it. It feels like his heart is going tight or something while he waits for Harry to reply.

_....I don’t have to bail anyone out, do I?_

Niall laughs in spite of himself. 

_No, think it’s alright. We’ve been very nice_  
_You good?_

The dots feel like they go forever, Niall getting antsy that Louis will return with the others and he’ll have to put his phone away before he can see what the response is.

_Y Louis and I have ALSO been very nice to each other. I’m glad to be back now, break was weird and I read a lot of the lost generation to fit my mood? Just had dinner with Alice and now I’m working on a paper can you BELIEVE I have a paper already I think I’m going to start a petition over it._

Niall reads over the long ass response a few times, laughing to himself. He wonders if he should ask if Harry wants to meet up with them. He does a gut check, realizing he’s already three beers in and it might be the worst fucking idea he’s ever had.

 _I’ll sign it for you_ is what he sends, locking his phone before he goes to join the others at the bar. 

**

“Liam?” Niall can hear Sophia call out from downstairs; she must have let herself in. Liam probably failed to tell her that he was called last minute by Louis for some sort of party that Niall wasn’t in the mood for. He’s trying to see if he can go one weekend without going out, can still feel his hangover from the night out with the Boston crew and Louis days later. 

“Sorry to disappoint,” Niall calls out as he comes out of his room and down the stairs to find Sophia frowning down at her phone, “but you’re stuck with me.”

“Great." Sophia’s fingers are flying across her phone, probably texting Liam an earful. “Liam and I didn’t have set plans, but.”

“Well,” Niall leans against the bannister even though it’s loose and he shouldn’t, “Louis trumps all, Soph. Are you Liam’s best friend?”

“Sometimes I am." Sophia sighs, tossing her phone on the futon. “I guess I’ll go, I just…”

“What?" Niall shifts, suddenly really aware of the fact that he hasn’t seen Sophia since right before the bowl game. 

“Oh, it’s not a big deal, El and Max were just blog planning so I wanted to get out." Sophia laughs. “I don’t want to get roped into that.”

“How else will people know about why stripes are important?" Niall widens his eyes until Sophia starts laughing again. He’s being an asshole, but also all he’s seen of Eleanor aside from a few parties and on campus are on Instagram about every outfit she’s ever worn in her life.

“Stop." Sophia reaches for her coat. “I can just --”

“Soph, come on." Niall stands up fully, stretching. “We can just hang out, it’s cool.”

“You don’t have plans?" Sophia narrows her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Nah, I really don’t." Niall scratches at his stomach; he could eat. “Did you have dinner? We can go pick something up?”

“Alright,” Sopha reaches for her coat again. “C’mon, I’ll drive.”

“Since you have the car,” Niall shoves his feet in his boots, hurrying up to follow her, “that would make the most sense.”

Two huge bags of Chipotle later, Niall clears the coffee table so that they can spread out while they watch TV.

“Anything on you want to watch?" Niall flips through the channels while Sophia pulls everything out.

“I don’t think they gave us the fourth bag of chips you wanted." Sophia looks up, “I don’t know, is anything on Saturday nights?”

“Wait, I didn’t get my fourth bag?" Niall shakes his head, frowning as she sets his bowl in front of him. “What are you gonna eat then?”

“I guess I’ll make do with the few chips you’ll shuffle my way." Sophia rolls her eyes. “I don’t know, just put on whatever sport game you want.”

“How dare you." Niall had hesitated when he saw there was a Bruins game on, but he’s not going to prove her right. “Look, I’m going to put on Bravo. Just for you.”

“How generous." Sophia hands him a huge stack of napkins. “Here, you’ll need these I’m sure.”

“I’m perfectly capable of eating without making a mess." Niall groans at himself when he immediately drops a blob of guac on his pants when he pries open the lid. “That was an accident.”

“Well it’s a good thing I gave you those napkins then." Sophia points her fork at him. “For those accidents.”

Niall just rolls his eyes at her as he swipes at his pants. He’ll have to do laundry this week, fuck. 

They eat in silence for a few minutes, Niall not even sure what show it is that they’re watching. It all seems to blend together at this point, but some lady is very angry at another lady and isn’t afraid who knows it.

“So,” Sophia sounds hesitant when she accepts the bag of chips Niall hands her, “you and Harry, huh?”

“Oh God." Niall groans, nearly choking on his mouthful of chips. “I can’t believe I shared food with you.”

“I was just asking, Niall." Sophia gives him a look. “ _And_ I waited for as long as I could.”

“How did you --” 

“If you didn’t think Liam was going to tell me,” Sophia’s voice is soft, “then I’m sorry I didn’t know about your brain injury over break.”

“I guess I just,” Niall can feel how red his face is getting, glad that it’s mostly dark in the room except for the TV. “I don’t know, that it wouldn’t come up.”

“We don’t have to talk about it." Sophia says it like she doesn’t mean it at all. “But like, from what he’s said, it doesn’t seem like you’re talking to anyone?”

“There’s nothing --” Niall starts.

“Liam said you two were like, making out when he and Louis walked in." Sophia reaches for one of Niall’s napkins from the pile and wipes her hands before she turns to him. “That’s not nothing, is it?”

“Well, when you hook up with someone,” Niall groans when Sophia rolls her eyes again. “Okay, okay. It’s whatever, Sophia.”

“What does whatever mean?" Sophia asks, leaning forward a little. “If it’s nothing, then fine, but it’s _Harry_ , and if it wasn’t anything then why haven’t all of us hung out since then?”

“I know Liam told you how bad it was, Soph." Niall leans back so his head is resting on the futon. “We’re working on it.”

“Yeah, but Liam said that you and Louis hung out, and he was taking time to get things right with you, and --” Sophia stops when she looks at Niall. He thought he’d been keeping his face balanced and even. Guess not.

“It’s just…” Niall turns his head to meet Sophia’s eyes. “Sophia, can you keep this between us?”

Sophia holds out her hand, extending her pinky with a serious look on her face. It’s ridiculous, but Niall appreciates it when he hooks his pinky with hers, keeping their eyes locked.

“It really was just hooking up,” Niall can hear how fast he’s talking, getting out everything that’s been churning around in his head since the bowl game, “like, really. Just fun. Just Harry, you know?”

Sophia nods. “Yeah, of course. He’s his own person.”

“Right, yeah." Niall takes a deep breath. “And it’s still that way, and nothing really _changed_ at all, and it’s fine and better for everything that we stop. But I just --”

“Just what?" Sophia reaches out, rubbing at his shoulder.

“I don’t know, I don’t know why I’ve been so fucking miserable?" Niall still doesn’t. “And I just want things to be okay, and so I’ve barely talked to Harry in case we fuck up, I guess. You know how this year’s been. I don’t want us to make it worse than we already have.”

Sophia doesn’t say anything, and Niall feels like an idiot for how much it feels...not better, not exactly, but less bottled up and shitty, saying it out loud.

“If you’re afraid that talking to Harry will mean that you’ll fuck up,” Sophia scoots over and tips her head to rest on Niall’s shoulder, patting at his leg, “maybe that’s why you’re so miserable.”

“Maybe." Niall rests his hand on top of hers. “I guess. I just have to give it time maybe.”

“You two didn’t make it worse." Sophia sighs when Niall starts to protest. “No. You didn’t. It sucked and they were surprised and hurt. But did either of you do anything on purpose?”

“No." Niall hadn’t been thinking of anything but Harry, but getting off, whenever it happened. 

“Did either of you say awful things or fuck off?" Sophia’s making too much sense. Niall hates her.

“No." Niall shakes his head, Sophia’s hair tickling his cheek. 

“Then that’s that." Sophia squeezes his leg. “And the rest, I don’t know. I think you and Harry will be okay either way. Things take time.”

“Thanks, Soph." Niall turns his head enough to brush his lips across the top of her head. “You can have that entire bag of chips.”

“Oh wow, don’t put yourself out.”

**

Sophia’s asleep on the futon with a blanket Niall draped over her when Liam stumbles in, Niall on hour infinity of the Real Housewives marathon. He’s picked sides now, and he hates himself. 

“Heyyyy,” Liam smells like an entire bar, and seems to be having an issue with getting out of his coat. “Oh noooo, how long has Sophia been here?”

“Hours, Li." Niall gets up, finally helping Liam struggle out of it. “How was tonight?”

“Good.” Liam starts nodding, letting Niall guide him toward the kitchen. “Louis was right, it was a good party, _and_ we saw --”

“Here, please drink this." Niall presses a glass of water in Liam’s hand. “I’m not dealing with your hungover ass in the morning. And neither is Sophia.”

Niall feels a weird protectiveness over her, more so than he ever had before. 

“I would _never_ ,” Liam’s eyes get wide, “but will you make me breakfast?”

“It’s two AM, Liam." Liam starts nodding. “What?”

“So it’s morning." Liam leans his head on his hand when he sits at the table. “I want a waffle.”

“Oh Christ,” Niall opens the freezer though, pulling out the Eggos. “Fine.”

“Victoryyyyyy." Liam pumps his fist. “Victory in my time.”

“Oh my God." Niall pulls out the toaster, laughing in spite of how annoyed he is. “You’re a mess, Payne.”

“Does Sophia want a waffle?" Liam sits up. “I’ll go ask her.”

“Please don’t." Niall stares at Liam until he starts nodding. “Gotta say though, Li, you better marry that girl one day.”

“That’s the --” Liam laughs, looking less drunk for a second. “That’s the plan.”

“Wait,” Niall pauses, his hands full of frozen waffle, “wait. Seriously?”

Liam nods. “Yeah, fuck. Fuck yeah. I’m not an idiot, have you met her?”

“I have.”

“Soon." Liam smiles so hard that Niall can’t even see his eyes anymore. “Gonna ask her soon.”

“Christ." Niall wishes _he_ was drunk for this conversation. “Like, when?”

“I’m not sure." Liam shakes his head, pushing out his lower lip in one of his exaggerated pouts. “Niall, are my waffles done?”

“Give me five minutes, buddy." Niall watches him as he puts them in the toaster. “We’ll talk about this later.”

**

Niall’s working on his first big assignment for his piece of shit technical writing class when his phone goes off across the room on his bed. He looks over at where it’s plugged in and debates whether or not he wants to move and get it. 

Not, he decides, because he’s been working on this dumb piece for two hours already and he knows the second he’s near his bed, even if it’s just to get his phone, he’ll end up deep in a nap. 

Turning back around, he gets back to it until his phone keeps going off, three pings in rapid succession. It makes him equal parts annoyed and anxious, wondering what exactly is going on. His anxiety doesn’t improve any when he sees that they’re all from Harry, thumbing at his screen to open it up and see what he’s saying.

_Niall you won’t believe what I just found out_  
_Louis gave Zayn a ride_  
_Home from break, that means WEEKS AGO did you know? I know we haven’t been talking much but did you know?_  
_NIALL_

Niall’s hands shake a bit when he tries to process what’s happening, shake even more when he tries to reply.

_Fuck, I did not know_  
_Like they talked? Are they talking? Why the fuck didn’t he SAY anything?_

Harry replies right away, an angry face emoji followed by a burst of text.

_I have no fucking clue, I saw a tbt selfie Zayn posted on insta and recognized Louis’s car and asked him about it and then he admitted it_  
_I LIVE WITH HIM and he didn’t say a word_

_Jfc_ Niall sends back, before pulling up Instagram and going right to Zayn’s so he can see. It’s right there, Zayn in the front seat of Louis’s car. Captioned _#tbt headed back ain’t nuttin’ like the old school_. 

Niall sits there for a moment, breathing as deeply as he can. It’s not a big deal, he tries to tell himself. A little piece of him believes it, but the larger part of him remembers Louis’s face when Perrie had texted him about Zayn’s Thanksgiving ride. Louis had never _said_ anything. Not one fucking word. Niall wonders --

“LIAM!” He yells, getting up and storming across the hall to Liam’s bedroom. Liam turns from where he was standing in front of his closet hanging up clothes, a surprised look on his face.

“Niall, what’s going on?" Liam looks confused and a little worried. “Are you okay? You look pissed.”

“I AM pissed." Niall holds out his phone, Zayn’s pic still on the screen. “Louis gave Zayn a ride back from break. And didn’t tell fucking anyone.”

“Oh." Liam says it too quietly for Niall’s liking, looking guilty immediately.

“Right? He didn’t tell anyone?" Niall asks, feeling the heat go out of his words as he looks at Liam. “Liam, right?”

“It was…” Liam straightens his shoulders which had been looking slumped. “They barely talked. It was just a little talking, because of the ride.”

“Liam, what the _FUCK_." Niall shoves his phone in his pocket, squeezing his fists tightly. “It’s been two weeks since break. What the fuck.”

“It was….." Liam sighs. “It was over break, Niall, when…”

“Some things, Liam,” Niall says, quietly, “are more important than you two being mad about Harry and I hooking up a few times.”

“Niall, I --” Liam grabs at Niall’s shoulder when he starts to go out of the room.

“What?" Niall shakes out of Liam’s grip, turning around and backing out that way. “Just...give me a goddamn minute.”

“Niall?" Liam is still following him, already in the hallway when Niall shuts the door and flops on his bed, a little too hard for his knees’ liking. 

_Liam knew too_ he texts Harry, adding _This is a pretty fucking big secret_

 _....what the actual fuck?_ Harry responds. Niall tries to think, Liam already knocking on his door.

“Niall, seriously, let me in." Liam knocks again. “Niall.”

 _Do you know how it happened? Have they talked since?_ Niall waits, Harry responding immediately.

_No clue, we’re not actively speaking at the moment._

Niall sits there for a minute, listening to Liam knock and say his name over and over; he knows that’s not Louis and Harry’s style, that the odds are the two of them are each sitting angrily in their silent apartment. He’s not sure why, but he stands up and opens his door.

“Niall." Liam’s eyes are wide and his face is full puppy dog like he can get. Niall’s seen him give it to Sophia enough times. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?" Niall asks, sitting on his bed. “What, was it to like, get back at me?”

“No! I honestly didn’t…." Liam takes a deep breath, rubbing his stomach nervously. “I didn’t know if it was my place to? I haven’t talked to him, Niall. When you finally hung out with Louis and didn’t say anything, I thought maybe you knew and were okay with it.”

“I don’t give a fuck that it happened,” Niall shakes his head. “Zayn is Zayn, and whatever the fuck...but Louis? To do that? And not say a fucking word? He didn’t even tell _Harry_.”

“I don’t know." Liam takes a tentative step toward him, rocking back and forth. “I really don’t. Niall. We’re okay?”

“I…” Niall needs a day or so to not have to look at Liam’s face and get over it, but he knows that he doesn’t have that luxury, that Liam never does well with it when they have arguments.

Louis, on the other hand. He can go fuck himself.

“Niall?" Liam asks again.

“Yeah, Liam." Niall sighs. “I get it. We’re gonna be okay.”

“Good." Liam smiles. “I’ll uh, I’ll give you some time.”

“Thanks." Niall manages to give Liam a thumbs up before he closes the door. He pulls out his phone again.

 _Liam hasn’t talked to him it was just Lou_ he sends. It feels like he waits forever, but Harry doesn’t respond.

**

It’s been such a shitty Monday. It’s his worst day, schedule-wise, he forgot his wallet at home so he couldn’t pick up lunch like he wanted to during his one small break, and then he had to stay on campus for an extra hour to make office hours after already meeting with his advisor about making sure he’s good to apply for graduation. 

Such a shitty Monday. He still hasn’t heard anything from Harry; he doesn’t want to hear from Louis. All he wants to do is go home, open a beer and not think about how everything is suddenly the worst again. 

When he opens the door, the first person he sees is Louis, sprawled out on the futon with a beer in his hand. Fucking great.

“Well shit." Niall stands there with his bag half hanging off of his arm as the door swings shut behind him. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Nice to see you too, Niall." Louis’s words are sharp but his tone isn’t, which is unusual for him. He sits up, Liam coming into the room from the kitchen and freezing in his tracks.

“Hey, Louis, I --” Liam clears his throat. “Niall, hey! Do you...d’you want a beer?”

“No. I do not want a beer, Liam." Niall drops his bag fully, kicks it for good measure. “I’m gonna go take a piss, and then I’m leaving.”

“Oh, come on." Louis rolls his eyes. Niall wants to punch him in the face. “Don’t be like that, Ni.”

“Don’t go, we were gonna order a pizza, we…” Liam half smiles, “we were waiting for you?”

“Good news, now you don’t have to wait." Niall makes for the bathroom before either of them can say anything else. After he’s done and washing his hands, he stares in the mirror, at how red his face is. He wishes he’d brought his phone in with him and he could text Harry. He can hear them talking quietly outside the door.

“Don’t worry, you can talk all you want about how I’m being irrational once I’m gone." Niall spots his wallet where he left it on the coffee table; he steps around Liam and grabs it, shoving it in his pocket.

“Are you seriously going to leave? What, like you can’t stand to be in the same fucking room as me?" Louis has the gall to sound like he’s hurt. 

“Right now?" Niall decides to go for honest. “Yeah, I can’t. Because you didn’t say one fucking word to me about Zayn. Or to Harry.”

“Oh please, Harry can fight his own fucking battles." Louis’ laugh has an edge to it. He’s not even standing up, sitting on the futon like he fucking owns the place. “I had my reasons.”

“Guys --” Liam starts to say, Niall cutting him off entirely. 

“Well, please, Louis. Tell me before I go. Tell me your good reasons. For everything, really." It’s shitty, is the thing Niall doesn’t say. How they’ve all spent fucking months on the verge of intervention level worried about Louis, making decisions based on keeping him okay when he can do whatever the fuck he wants and not tell a soul. Things like Zayn, that affect all of them.

“Niall, I just think we all need to calm down." Liam steps forward, edging around like he’s trying to put himself between them. 

“I’m plenty calm, Liam." Niall watches Louis set his beer on the table and stand up, jostling Liam as he stands. “Louis would know that, if he ever fucking spoke to me.”

“Oh that’s rich." Louis pushes at Liam’s shoulder so he and Niall are face to face with just the coffee table between them. “We had what, one good night out after everything that happened over break and we’re good? You get to be sanctimonious about shit?”

“No, but if you’d said ONE word about how you gave him a ride, I --” Niall’s cut off when Louis throws his arms out suddenly, yelling.

“I was so TIRED OF FIGHTING, aren’t you?" Louis is breathing hard, his voice angry. “With Zayn. With whoever the fuck. I’ve been fucking bleeding people I care about and I’m tired of it.”

“I don’t give a shit that you gave Zayn a fucking ride!” Niall shakes his head at Liam when he tries to put an arm around them both. He’s not in the mood for one of Liam’s group hugs of healing or whatever. 

“Then what?" Louis shakes his head. “What?”

“It’s after, Louis." Niall pushes past them both, talking as he bends down to pick his bag back up. “It’s you not saying anything. If it’s that you were holding a grudge or whatever, fine. Just fucking say it so we can keep up.”

“So what if I was?" Louis is right behind him; Niall doesn’t turn around. “You know now. Harry knows. Zayn’s not moving back in, but maybe it won’t be shitty if we run into him.”

“That’s good, Niall, right?" Liam pipes up. “We’re all doing better, when you think about it.”

“Yeah, well." Niall reaches for Liam’s keys. “I guess we’ll see. Liam, I’m taking your car.”

Neither of them follow him outside. Which is fine. Niall sits there for a minute, trying to decide where to go. He checks Facebook, scrolling through his phone and seeing that Harry’s at Cara’s. Great. 

He’ll just get some food. Eat it in Liam’s car and then go to the library. Close the shitty day out in a shitty way. 

**

Niall gets out of class and pulls out his phone. It had been vibrating in his pocket for what feels like the last half hour, so he hopes someone’s not dying or Louis didn’t like, accidentally marry Zayn overnight and not tell anyone about it. He sighs in the hallway when he sees that it’s Cara.

_Niall I’m throwing H’s bday party and we need a THEME_  
_I know he’s gonna want something like DRESS AS UR FAVE BEAT POET but even I don’t have the energy for that nonsense_  
_Maybe something like THE RUNWAY, we can do a fashion show in the middle!_  
_Nevermind Kenny said we still have a bunch of tiki torches so that is the theme_

Niall laughs as he tries to process. It is Harry’s birthday on the weekend and he has to admit that even with everything going on, he had thought about what the fuck he was going to do. He had been planning on making Sophia talk to Liam about throwing a party, putting the Sophia buffer in there so it wouldn’t be a whole fucking thing. But this is better.

_Why are you texting me? And is “tiki” an actual theme?_

_Don’t be an asshat ur the Kenny to H’s Cara so of course I’m texting you and FUCK YOU please find all your sorry asses shirts to wear I’ll text if I need anything else_

_Yes ma’am_

Niall locks his phone and smiles to himself, even though it’s for no real reason and he still hasn’t really talked to Harry since they both found out about Louis and Zayn. He doesn’t think that changes like, being able to celebrate his birthday. After wrapping his scarf around his neck one more time and shoving his hat on his head, Niall puts in his earbud and calls Liam.

“Is everything okay?" Liam answers immediately. Niall feels a small pang of guilt at how much shit he’s putting on Liam’s plate lately. 

“No no, it’s fine, I’m just calling because Cara texted, she’s throwing Harry’s party this weekend?" Niall adjusts the mic so it won’t pick up the wind too much.

“Oh. Okay!” Liam sounds relieved. “There’s a theme, isn’t there.”

“Yeah, but it’s okay." Niall laughs, ducking his head down more as he walks faster. “Apparently they’re planning it around some tiki torches.”

“Like a Survivor party?" Liam sighs. “I don’t want to show up in my underwear and do challenges in February.”

“No, not like Survivor.” Niall starts laughing, knows that Harry would rather die. “Like, beach, I think. Caribbean? I don’t know, I’m supposed to make sure we all have shirts.”

“Ohhhh." Liam’s quiet for a second. “Maybe I could call Mom and see if we can do dinner there tonight, raid my dad’s Tommy Bahama collection?”

“You mean we wouldn’t have to pay for shirts AND I’d get a Karen Payne dinner?" Niall checks the time; he could be eating dinner in like, four hours.

“Pretty good, right?" Liam sounds muffled for a second. “I’ll just tell her it’ll be you and me, right?”

“You can pick out a good shirt for your best friend Louis, don’t worry." Niall tries to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, but he knows he’s not entirely successful. 

“Niall." 

“Sorry Liam." Niall sighs. “Listen, see if you can work it out with your mom, I’ll be home in like an hour?”

“Deal.”

**

As much as Niall makes fun of Harry (and as he used to make fun of Zayn and his weird hollow bird bones), his Boston upbringing doesn't make him immune to days like today, when it’s fucking a million degrees below zero with the windchill. Normally he’s fine to either bum a ride off of someone or suck it up, but when he steps out of the library a couple days later it’s so cold it makes his ears actually _hurt_. He looks over at the corner where the on campus bus system picks up and can already see the bus approaching down the street. Might as well. 

He jogs over, his lungs screaming at the cold air as he does, but he makes it just in time to climb on, exhaling happily at the warm gust of air that hits him as soon as the door closes. Maybe he won’t die of hypothermia after all. 

When he turns, Harry’s sitting in the long seat along the back of the bus, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open a little bit. It’s startling and embarrassing how it automatically puts Niall right on edge, his heart doing that weird tight thing again. He feels shaky as he makes his way down the aisle toward Harry, jerking forward when bus starts moving and nearly ending up right in Harry’s lap. 

It’s not that his heart skips a beat or anything, it’s not like that at all. Niall’s just not sure what’s going to happen, what Harry’s going to say. 

“Niall!” Harry scoots over immediately, patting the seat next to him. “I thought you never take this bus, said it was for wimps.”

“Guess I’m a wimp." Niall resists the urge to press up against Harry who looks warm in all fourteen of his layers. His cheeks are red like he was just outside, and Niall wonders if the skin there would be cold or hot if he touched it. 

“I saw on Facebook,” Harry glances over at him quick before looking forward again, “that you’re coming? To my party?”

“Of course I am,” Niall doesn’t mean to sound so offended, but he can’t help it. Like he wouldn’t fucking come. Harry was the one who hadn’t responded to him, right? Did Niall do something to make him think that he was pissed at him, too?

“Oh, no, I just meant…” Harry looks stressed out. “I wasn’t saying you weren’t, that was just my way of saying yay!” Harry throws out his hands and shakes them. He’s wearing fucking mittens. “Yay, Niall’s coming to my party!”

“Well, now I don’t know how I’ll live up to that excitement." Niall shakes his head, “Gonna be a big let down.”

“Never." Harry rolls his eyes. “Listen, I know I’ve been like, not responding much? I know that.”

“I figured you were,” Niall looks down, rubbing his hand against his jeans to try and warm it up more. “I don’t know, dealing with stuff, I guess.”

“Something like that." Harry sighs. “And I’m not lying when I say this semester has been more than I thought it’d be. So the other stuff…”

“Yeah, you had to focus on one thing at a time." Niall knows how that goes, something that he and Harry have always had in common. Deflecting shit and focusing on the nearest other priority. “I get it.”

“But." Harry pulls off his mittens, stretching out his fingers as he speaks. Niall stays very, very still so he doesn’t look at them, doesn’t know why he feels like he’s staring. 

“But what?" Niall forces himself to look at Harry’s face, at how his lips look chapped like he’s been licking them too much in the cold air.

“I just." Harry shrugs, smiling sadly. “I miss you, Niall. Hanging out with you. I think I do better in classes when you’re around being a dick to me about stuff.”

“Hey!” Niall laughs though, gets it. He remembers last year, when he’d studied for one of his finals by sitting Harry down and trying to explain the Calvin Cycle to him while Harry asked increasingly obtuse questions and insisted Niall draw him a chart. He’d aced it.

Harry’s still smiling at him, his eyes wide and nervous. He starts pulling at his lip and Niall has to shake his head to clear it. 

“I miss you too, Harry." Niall laughs when Harry exhales like he thought what? That Niall was going to say anything different? “And hey, speaking of your party…”

“Yeah?" Harry puts his mittens back on, thank Christ.

“I uh, picked up a Geoff Payne original shirt for you to use,” Niall shrugs, looking away from Harry face when he continues, “uh, if you wanted.”

He’d snagged it while Liam was trying to decide which shirt Louis would actually wear; it was easily Mr. Payne’s most ridiculous shirt, this neon monstrosity covered in flamingos. 

“What?" Harry actually bounces up and down in his seat a little bit, although Niall supposes that could be the bus. “When were you going to tell me?”

“Uh,” Niall really hadn’t thought about that. He probably would have caved and texted Harry before the party, he’s pretty sure. But that doesn’t matter now. “I’m telling you right now?”

“Are you on your way home?" Harry claps his hands together. “I don’t have anything for a couple hours, if you wanted….”

“Yes!” Niall cringes a little internally at how quickly he answers, Harry grinning widely like he noticed. “I mean, yeah, I’m actually done for today, so why don’t you come over?”

“Do you have hot cocoa?" Harry makes a face. “Or tea, I’d take tea. With honey?”

“I cannot guarantee the veracity of our honey,” Niall gathers up his bag, they’re getting close to the stop. “But if you can chance a dose of the non-local stuff, we’ve got tea.”

Harry doesn’t answer, rolling his eyes.

**

Liam’s there when they get in, and if he thinks there’s anything odd about Niall and Harry walking into their apartment in the middle of the day, he doesn’t show it. Mostly.

“Harry, come here." Liam holds out his arms, gesturing with his hands for Harry to come closer. “There we go.”

He hugs Harry for long enough that Niall thinks if someone had to guess who in the room had ever blown each other, the answer wouldn’t be Niall and Harry. Liam and Harry hugging is always a never-ending story, though, the two of them always in some sort of unspoken agreement to never be the first person to pull away.

“Okay, well,” Niall says, after he’s already taken off all his layers and they’re still rocking back and forth and taking turns picking each other up off the floor. “I’m gonna go make some tea.”

“With honey,” Harry’s voice comes out muffled as Niall steps around them.

“Extra for me." Liam adds, and Niall laughs the entire time he’s in the kitchen, cursing when he realizes that he has to hand wash a mug so there’ll be enough. He zaps the water in the microwave to save time, drumming his fingers on the counter. 

He can finally hear the TV go on when he’s ripping open the tea bags, so at least they’re done. 

“Thank youuuuu,” Harry smiles up at him from where he’s sprawled out on the floor when Niall hands him his mug. It’s good, Niall thinks, to see him there.

“Hope it’s okay." Niall hands Liam his mug before ducking back into the kitchen to grab his. He sits on the futon next to Liam when he comes back out. “I checked, it’s not local.”

“I thought tea comes from like, China." Liam says, holding up his mug and blowing on it. He wrinkles up his nose. “I don’t even like tea.”

“Liam,” Harry sits up, smiling so hard his dimples are deep creases in his cheeks. Niall can’t stop himself from laughing. He hopes Liam doesn’t take it personally.

“I was talking about the honey, Li." Niall bites his lip, looks away from Harry so he can calm down. “Harry needs it, for his delicate body.”

“It helps with my allergies.” Harry sounds like he’s barely keeping it together. It’s so stupid, the two of them losing it over nothing. 

“If you didn’t want tea, I would have gotten you something else,” Niall shakes his head, nearly dropping his tea, “something not from China.”

“Guys." Liam’s voice has that note of warning in it, although he’s smiling when Niall looks up, his eyes darting between Niall and Harry. It just makes Niall lose it harder.

“Niall’s got polka dot SOCKS." Harry announces, and Niall can feel his fingers poke at the top of his foot. As a conversation shift, it doesn’t do much. 

Liam starts laughing now. “He owns socks from the Rob Kardashian sock line, Harry. I found the box last year.”

“THAT WAS A GIFT!” Niall yells, which is true. Denise had been so proud of that gift last Christmas. “They’re just comfortable, so fuck both of you.”

“Designer socks. Kardashian socks." Harry raises his eyebrows over his mug when Niall dares look over at him. “You can’t make fun of me anymore, Horan.”

“Ohhh shit, last name!” Liam reaches over with his fist for Harry to bump it. “Niall’s in trouble.”

“Yeah he is." Harry leans forward when he winks at Niall, and Niall can feel his left hand curl up in an involuntary fist.

“Why don’t I go...get that shirt,” Niall mumbles, standing up while the two of them laugh behind him. Jesus Christ.

He takes the stairs two at a time, grabbing the shirt from where he had it draped over the back of his chair so it wouldn’t get wrinkled. He takes a deep breath, feeling infinitely more calm when he gets back downstairs, Liam and Harry back to watching whatever Liam’d put on TV.

“Hey,” Niall holds it up over himself, smiling at how Harry’s face goes from zero to delighted immediately.

“That is _perfect_ , oh my GOD, Niall!” Harry stands up, already tugging his sweater over his head while trying to reach for the shirt at the same time. 

“Oh god, not THAT shirt." Liam groans, rubbing at his eyes like the shirt’s gonna blind him. “My dad wore that shirt like, every day during our Disney trip when I was like, 11? It is in every single picture. It was the most embarrassing thing that ever happened, we even _voted_ for him to get rid of it but then he vetoed it. Said he was President of the family and was the final word.”

“It’s _vintage_ ,” Harry beams as he slips it on; it fits pretty well, actually. Niall had figured it was an older shirt from the slightly leaner Geoff Payne days. “It’s so _neon_ , Liam, this is a gift.”

“Please keep it,” Liam chuckles, “my mom would probably thank you.”

“I’ve literally never been happier." Harry looks down, smoothing his hands down over the shirt. “Hold on, I gotta go look in the mirror.”

“When did you grab that?" Liam asks, reaching for the remote and muting the TV. “I didn’t know you’d gotten one for Harry.”

“Oh, just in case." Niall shrugs, about to say something else when Harry’s yelling from the bathroom.

“IT LOOKS EVEN BETTER IN THE MIRROR!” Harry comes out, handing Liam his phone. “Liam, take my picture, but like, cut my head off. I wanna instagram it.”

“Why do I have to cut off your face?" Liam rolls his eyes, standing up and fiddling with Harry’s phone anyway. “No, Harry, move so I don’t get the door behind you, it looks better with just the wall.”

“It’s part of his aesthetic,” Niall answers, without thinking, “something about media consumption.”

“Exactly." Harry poses, sticking his arms out. “No, like this.”

“Also he’s just a contrarian sometimes." Niall flips Harry off when he sticks his tongue out at him. 

“Maybe a little bit of that." Harry admits, taking his phone when Liam hands it to him. “Perfect.”

He stands there, posting the picture before shoving his phone back in his pocket. 

“Okay,” Harry steps around Niall and gathers up his sweaters. “Can one of you warm up my tea? I’ve gotta go in a few, I want to drop this shirt by my place before my next class.”

“Sure,” Niall says, reaching for Harry’s mug. He doesn’t bother with Liam’s, figures he can dump it down the sink later. 

“I’m good for the day,” Liam sits down, stretching. “So hurry up, I’ll give you a ride.”

“Thanks Li,” Harry smiles before he ducks back into the bathroom. Niall can’t help but smile to himself, for the first real time in days feeling like maybe Sophia was right.

“Wanna come for a ride?" Liam’s staring down at his phone, “why does he use the worst fucking filters?”

“Aesthetic." Niall pauses in the doorway with Harry’s mug. “And yeah, I’ll tag along.”

“Cool." Liam still doesn’t look up. “See what I said? I think things are better, yeah?”

“Yeah." Niall figures it’s close enough to better, anyway. 

“If you and Louis….” Liam trails off, tipping his head against the back of the futon and looking up at Niall hopefully.

“Liam, don’t start." Don’t ruin the warm feeling Niall’s got thrumming in his veins from feeling better about things with Harry, Niall doesn’t say. 

“I’m not starting." Liam insists, “but think about it.”

**

Kendall and Cara have turned their apartment into a beach-themed monstrosity. Niall stops dead in the doorway, Liam smacking into his back.

“Hey, move it. Holy shit.”

“Right?” Niall points to the blow-up pool in the corner that’s apparently doubling as a cooler. Next to it is one of those turtle sandboxes his neighbor had when they were kids. It’s actually filled with sand. “This is --”

“Awesome, right?” Kendall says, laughing. “We got it at Goodwill for like, five dollars. Gimme your coats, I’ll put them in my room.”

“I wanted to light the tiki torches,” Cara says as they shrug out of their jackets, “but Kenny said it was a bad idea.”

“You’d agree with me when the whole place burns down.”

“The candles work, though,” Liam says. 

Kendall nods. “Yeah, we figured it was the same ambiance.”

“Is that a word?” Liam asks when she and Cara disappear with their coats. “Ambiance?”

Niall laughs, clapping Liam on the shoulder and pointing them both in the direction of the pool. He doesn’t know many people here, at least not yet. Sophia’s coming, though, and Niall knows Louis wouldn’t miss it for the world. He’s… he’s not dreading seeing him, but he’s sort of dreading it. It’s been so easy to avoid him until now.

“Remember that weird sorority party we went to, what was it, sophomore year?” Liam says. “And it was a luau? And we all dressed up?”

“That was freshman year,” Niall says, taking a sip of his beer. It’s lukewarm. Clearly Kendall and Cara didn’t fill up the pool until the last minute.

“Was it? No.”

“Yeah, spring, remember?” It’d been right after Liam and his girlfriend split; he’s got his sadness buzzcut in all the pictures from that party, but Niall doesn’t want to mention that. They’re on way better terms now, but bringing it up feels unnecessarily cruel. Instead he says, “When else would we all have worn matching khakis?”

Liam bursts out laughing. “Oh god, we did, didn’t we? What a bunch of fucking nerds.”

Niall laughs, too. He can’t not -- they really were a bunch of nerds, dumb kids glued together at the hip.They’d felt invincible then. And now look at them, everyone scattered at the start of their last semester.

“Liam, it’s rude to insult the people hosting the party,” Louis says, appearing suddenly. Niall’s fingers tighten around his beer bottle. He wishes he’d had more time to prepare for it, even though he doesn’t know what the fuck he would’ve done.

“I wasn’t! I -- oh,” Liam realizes Louis is being a dick and hits him in the side. “Shut up.”

“Is Harry here yet?” Louis looks around, frowning as Liam shakes his head. “Where is everyone? More people are coming, right?”

Niall shrugs. “I don’t know. Were you supposed to give them all a ride here?”

Liam flounders, his mouth opening and closing like a fish’s, while Louis just rolls his eyes. Niall doesn’t even know why he said it -- it only makes him feel shittier. He’s not trying to start shit, especially not before Harry’s even here. Fuck.

“I don’t -- I’m gonna -- Cara said something about shots, so.” Niall motions over his shoulder as he backs away. It’s not the smoothest escape, but it beats standing there feeling like an asshole.

The kitchen’s mostly empty, just some of the girls’ suspiciously tall friends standing in a corner going through someone’s Instagram. Niall wonders if Harry knows any of them. They don’t even look up when he comes in, helping himself to a shot glass.

“Knew I’d find you in here.”

Niall takes a steadying breath before he turns to face Louis. “Said where I was going, didn’t I?”

Louis digs his thumb into his eye, sighing. “I didn’t -- fuck.” He reaches past Niall for a bottle, doesn’t even pay attention to what it is before splashing some into a shot glass and knocking it back. Niall bites back a comment about being surprised Louis even bothered with the glass. He came in here to cool down.

“Listen,” Louis says, but Niall shakes his head.

“No. Not here.” Louis makes a face but Niall keeps on, determined to be the bigger person. “We have to just --”

“No shit, Niall. It’s his birthday, I’m not a _monster_.”

“I didn’t realize you two were even --”

“What, talking? He’s my fucking roommate! Do you think we’ve just been coexisting in silence since the semester started?”

He sort of had. Not that he really thought about it, but like, Niall hasn’t been talking to either of them and he just kind of figured that no one was talking to each other, either. Which is stupid, he realizes now, but whatever.

They stand there in an uncomfortable silence. Niall looks past Louis and realizes all the girls from the corner have left. They’re the only ones in here now. 

Louis blows out all his breath, sounding annoyed. “I’m not gonna ignore him, Niall. That’s why I came in here,” he mumbles. “I don’t -- just for tonight, at least? Can you fucking pretend that you can stand to be in the same room as me? For his sake?”

It’s weird, Niall thinks, that ultimately he and Louis want the exact same thing. A small, petty part of him doesn’t want to give in, wants to stay angry at Louis all night, but… it’s not worth it. He looks at the clock over the microwave, trying to gauge how long he has to tough this out. 

“He’s not gonna be here for another twenty minutes at least,” Louis says. Niall raises one eyebrow. Louis snorts. “It’s Harry we’re talking about. When I left he was only halfway through his routine. He hadn’t even picked out a scarf.”

Niall laughs despite himself. They’re all familiar with Harry’s routine. Especially with how much of it is actually Harry just fucking around his room, singing to himself and staring into his closet. 

When he looks over, Louis is holding out a full shot glass. “Truce?”

Niall takes the shot, clinks the rim of his glass against Louis’s. 

“You started without me?” Liam looks like he’s just found out Santa isn’t real.

Niall points at Louis. “He made me do it.”

Surprisingly, Louis doesn’t argue. He does make a face at Niall, just a small one, like he knows Niall’s seeing how much he can get away with and the answer is more than usual, but still not all that much. Maybe just this one thing. 

Niall appreciates the gesture. To show it, he pours another round, one for Liam this time. “Come on, before Harry gets here and we have to spend all night waiting for someone to finish a forty-five minute toast every time we want a drink.”

**

“LIAM.” Harry throws his arms around Liam, clinging to his back. Niall’s impressed Liam doesn’t topple over from the surprise of it all, but it’s the fifth time Harry’s done it to him tonight, so maybe it’s not a surprise anymore. “Are you having a good time? Did you limbo? Louis limboed.”

“He won the limbo,” Liam says.

“Did he?” Niall makes a face, looking across the room to where Louis is wearing a bunch of leis that are apparently the prize for winning the limbo. At least, that’s what he’s taken to telling everyone. “He hadn’t mentioned.”

“He beat _me_ ,” Harry says, “on my _birthday_.”

“Do you want me to beat him up for you, Harry?” Liam asks.

Niall nods, making a fist. “We’ll get those leis if you want them.”

Harry adjusts his grip on Liam’s neck and stares at the leis with big, hopeful eyes. “No,” he says eventually. “Louis won, fair and square. And he already gave me my present, so. He can have this one.”

“He did?” Niall hadn’t realized 

“Was it weed?” Liam asks. “That’s what he wanted to get you, even though I said it was a shitty gift.”

“IT IS NOT,” Louis yells, making his way over.

“For Harry it would be!”

“Harry liked the brownies I made for him --”

“You made brownies?” 

“FROM SCRATCH,” Harry says, throwing his hands out wide, and this time Liam does stagger forward. “It is a birthday tradition!”

“You make pot brownies every year for his birthday? From scratch?” 

Liam’s voice is so hilariously high-pitched Niall can’t stifle his laugh. He knows the two of them have a whole slew of dumbshit things they do together for Harry’s birthday, things that date all the way back to freshman year when there’d been a blizzard and Harry was homesick and miserably cold and upset that there was a state of emergency keeping everyone in their dorms. He hadn’t realized Louis had gone out of his way to do them again this year. He feels guilty for being surprised. 

“You gave me a warm can of Keystone this year!” Liam says.

Louis nods. “And you loved it. Said it was the best thing anyone ever got you.”

“I paid your entire bar tab this year,” Niall says, affronted. He still suspects Liam had just been giving beers away after a certain point. “But sure, that Keystone was real thoughtful.”

“They weren’t pot brownies.” Harry pauses. “Were they?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Harry, you literally ate half the tray for breakfast, obviously they weren’t.”

Someone calls Harry’s name and he turns, sliding off Liam and going up on his toes so he can see whoever’s yelling.

“And they were from a box, but don’t tell him, he likes the purity of it,” Louis stage-whispers.

“Aha, I knew my gift was better!” Liam yells. 

“I had to borrow eggs from that foreign exchange student who lives next door.”

“You talked to Uncle Si?” Niall honestly can’t believe it. That dude is a mystery. He lived in Harry and Louis’s complex last year, too, and Niall has only ever seen him outside once. One time in two years. They only know he goes to classes because Harry swears he hears the door slam at the same time every morning. “Did he invite you inside?”

“He made me wait in the hall! I saw his living room though and I am like, ninety-nine percent sure he has a model train set. Like, a working one.”

“Whaaaaaaat. Isn’t he like --”

“Old as balls? YES. It was weird, bro. I’m gonna get in there by the end of the year.”

Niall can’t help the face he makes. He doesn’t know _why_ Louis wants to go inside so badly. Still, he says, “Twenty bucks you don’t.”

Louis lights up. “You’re on.”

“Taste this beer,” Liam interrupts their handshake to shove a bottle between them, “it tastes weird.”

Louis nearly spits his mouthful on Liam’s shoes. “What the fuck?”

Niall tilts his head to read the label. “It’s pear cider, you dickwits.” He watches as Louis tries it again, laughing at the horrified face he makes. At least he swallows it this time. “It’s not even that bad.”

“I don’t see you drinking it.” 

“And you won’t.” Niall ducks as Louis tries to tip it towards his mouth. “Get the fuck away from me, you’re a menace!”

He can’t stop laughing, though. It gets worse when Liam comes to his rescue by dropping ice from the kiddie pool down Louis’s shirt. 

“HELP! NIALL! NO, LOUIS, I DIDN’T MEAN IT, I SWEAR.”

It’s like slow motion, one moment Liam’s trying to fend of Louis and the next he’s going ass-over-elbows into the pool, ice flying everywhere. Niall can’t do anything to stop it, so he just helps Liam by trying to shove as much ice as possible down Louis’s pants. 

“Uncle!” Louis shouts, struggling out of the pool. He gets a few glares, but most people are ignoring them. It’s a real mixed-bag of a crowd. “Motherfucker, that is cold. Oh my god.”

“I think I like it,” Liam says, licking his lips. Niall can barely hear him over the thudding music and his own gasping breaths. He feels like he hasn’t laughed that hard in a long time. He’s missed this; missed _them_. “I just wasn’t expecting it to be so sweet. It kind of like, grows on you.” 

“Are you guys drinking my cider?” Harry reappears like he’d never been gone. “I told you it’s good! Why’re you on the floor?”

Niall feels the toe of Harry’s boot digging into his ribs. He flops over, knowing he’s red-faced. Harry looks a little blurry but Niall can tell his smile’s huge as he looks from Niall to Liam to Louis. 

“Your friends are insane,” Louis says, as if that’s an actual answer. It might be, though, because Harry’s friends with people who have a pool in their apartment. And a sandbox where someone’s busy creating a giant… Niall can’t tell what it is, but it looks like tits? Or… igloos, maybe.

“Louis pushed me,” Liam says, pointing. 

“You pushed _me_ first!” 

Niall shrugs. “I just fell.”

Harry laughs loudly, his head tipped back. He holds his hand out, helping Liam out of the pool while Niall and Louis both stumble to their feet. There’s ice everywhere, a huge Liam-shaped indent like it’s an old-timey crime scene.

“Oh, look,” Louis reaches into the pool, pulling out a bottle, “there’s tequila in here!”

Liam loops an arm around Niall’s neck and the other around Harry’s, shouting, “THIS IS THE BEST PARTY EVER.”

Louis comes around to complete the circle, the tequila bumping against Niall’s back where it’s still dangling from his hand. Niall holds Liam’s waist tighter and doesn’t think about how close Harry’s face is to his own. 

He angles towards Louis instead and asks, “Birthday shots?”

**

“I hate to do this,” Cara says, “but…….. Niall.”

“He was weighing us down,” Louis says. Niall would kick him in the shin if he weren’t grateful for being voted out this round. Fucking flip cup on the balcony in February was a terrible idea. “He was good in the beginning, but he’s really let us down.”

“When I can feel my fingers again, I’m gonna flip you off,” Niall promises, making Louis cackle as he ducks back inside, sighing in relief when he feels the blast of heat. 

“Don’t.” Liam holds his hands up preemptively, but that doesn’t stop Niall from shoving his icicle hands under the hem of Sophia’s shirt. She shrieks and tries to squirm away. 

“You deserved to be voted out,” she says, gasping. “Fucker.”

“I did.” He really had sucked the last round, his hands too cold to properly flip his cup. He doesn’t know how Louis and Cara are still out there, going strong. They’re gonna win the whole thing. “I have to --” he gestures from his coat to the bedroom.

“Bring me a new drink when you come back?” Sophia asks.

“No.”

“Please! You owe me for giving me hypothermia just now.”

He spins so he’s walking backwards. “That’s not how hypothermia works, Smithers.”

She laughs, shaking her empty cup at him like she knows he’ll bring her a drink anyway. “Thanks, love you!”

There isn’t a line for the bathroom, which Niall takes as a blessing. He ditches his coat and then ducks in; he takes a stupidly long time washing his hands. The warm water feels so nice once the fucked-up tingling stops. He zones out watching the way his fingertips are slowly turning from creepy white to normal pink and jumps nearly a foot when someone squeezes into the room with him.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t --”

“It’s just me, Harry,” he says, his heart rate returning to normal. “I was just…”

There isn’t much room to turn around and when he does it means he’s sandwiched between the sink and Harry. He remembers all too well the last time they were in here. He wonders if Harry’s remembering, too.

“I was looking for you before,” Harry says quietly.

“I was playing flip cup on the balcony. Cara voted me out, though.”

“That jerk.”

Niall huffs out a laugh. “It’s alright. I was fucking freezing, so.”

He watches Harry’s hand move so he doesn’t know why it’s such a surprise when Harry touches his jaw. His hands are warm. Niall’s not even that cold anymore, but Harry’s noticeably warmer for once.

If Niall moved just right, Harry could slot easily into the space between his legs. He does just that, shifting backwards, testing. Harry moves with him, exactly the way Niall expected he would. 

“Harry.” He doesn’t know what else he was going to say, caught up in the way Harry’s blinking at him, the way he’s focusing solely on NIall’s mouth. He wets his lips instinctively; his breath catches in his chest when Harry does the same thing. 

Niall digs his fingers into Harry’s waist. He doesn’t know when he reached for him, but there are damp patches spreading through the fabric of Harry’s hideous shirt so it must’ve been a decent amount of time ago. 

It makes sense, when Harry kisses him. Or when he kisses Harry. Niall can’t tell who leaned in first and he doesn’t fucking care, not when Harry’s got him backed up against the counter like this, his hand curled around the nape of Niall’s neck. Niall shivers every time Harry scrapes his nails over the short hairs there. It’s just the residual hypothermia, he tells himself.

He can’t hear the soft sound Harry makes when Niall bites his lower lip, but he knows he makes it. He always does. Niall hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it until it was right here for the taking. 

They break apart for half a second, Niall breathing harshly before he’s leaning forward to kiss Harry again. He tastes like cider and shots and Niall knows it should be disgusting, theoretically, just like he knows he probably shouldn’t want to drop to his knees and blow Harry in this stupid bathroom. It seems fair that they should both get a chance to defile this place. 

Harry slides his hand up under Niall’s shirt, urging him closer, his nails digging in, tiny pinpricks along his spine. Jesus, Niall’s too drunk for this. Too drunk to be alone with Harry like this, making stupid decisions. 

“Fuck,” he says. Harry’s already backing up, putting space between them. Niall watches him touch his mouth, pinching his lower lip. He makes himself look away.

“Sorry. I’m -- shit, I --”

“No, come on.” Niall doesn’t want it to be like that, a blame game or some shit. “It’s just -- we agreed.”

“I know.” Harry looks at the shower curtain and takes a deep breath. “We can’t. I miss you, is all.”

It’s the same thing he’d said on the bus the other day, only infinitely different. Niall gets it. He leans back, setting his palms flat on the sink. The chill of the porcelain is grounding. “Same. Me too, I mean. I miss you, too. But…”

“No, I know. Things were finally better. For all of us, I mean.”

Niall nods. The room feels so quiet. He can’t believe there’s a party going on on the other side of the door. It’s like it’s just the two of them.

“We should just pretend this didn’t happen,” Harry says. “I’ll leave here and --”

“Who said you get to leave first?”

“It’s my birthday!”

“Fiiiiine,” Niall sighs, fake annoyed. This, at least, feels better. Solid. Joking around with Harry is always familiar. “But on _my_ birthday, I get to leave first.”

“Obviously,” Harry says. He stands there a minute longer, his hand on the doorknob like he doesn’t want to leave. Niall doesn’t want him to go, either, but he’s never going to admit it. Not when he’s finally smoothed things over with Louis. It’s been such a fucking shitshow the past month -- the past months, really -- that he doesn’t want to risk screwing all that up over one drunk, sloppy hook-up. No matter how good it might be.

“Would you --” He makes like he’s going to kick Harry in the ass, which startles Harry into moving.

“Wait five minutes!” Harry hisses.

“I have done this before, you know.” The last thing he sees is Harry’s middle finger, floating through the crack in the door. 

**

It’s weird, rejoining the party. Niall feels like he’s got a giant sign over his head or something. _I JUST MADE OUT WITH HARRY_ in neon. 

“I’ve been looking for you!” Liam says. “Guess who’s here?”

“The Pope?” Niall takes the beer out of Liam’s hand and finishes it. It’s warm but he doesn’t fucking care. He needs like, at least three more beers before he feels normal. 

“Close,” Zayn says, and Niall doesn’t know what the fuck his face does but he’s sure it’s absurd. 

“Um. Hey?” It’s weird seeing him in person. “What are you doing here?” 

“Cara sent him the Facebook invite, too,” Louis says. “Did you know Zayn has Facebook?”

Niall braces for the blow-up but Zayn just rolls his eyes and says, “Shut up, Louis.”

It feels like he’s walked out of the bathroom and into an alternate universe. He knows they’ve talked, but like… it’s weird as shit, seeing Zayn here. Acting like everything’s fine. It’s a mindfuck. 

Niall doesn’t know what to say so he stays quiet. He’s not going to be the one who ruins Harry’s birthday.

“I found Harry!” Sophia leads him by the arm across the room. “Oh, and you found Niall, great, now we have enough people.”

“I’m -- I can’t stay for long.”

“Zayn??” Harry trips over absolutely nothing, crashing sideways into Liam. Louis is the one who ends up on the ground, even though he’d been three feet away.

“Happy birthday, bro.” Zayn holds his hand out for a fist bump, chuckling as Harry twitches a bit, looking like he can’t decide if he’s supposed to wave or hug Zayn or what. It means he’s drunker than he seems. Niall laughs despite himself. What a weird fucking night.

“One game,” Liam says. “Come on, no one’s even playing right now.”

Zayn looks out onto the balcony. Niall reaches into the pool for another drink. All that’s left are ciders. Fuck it, he thinks, and twists the cap off one. He doesn’t think about how much it tastes like Harry.

“One game,” Zayn says. “For Harry’s birthday.”

Liam and Sophia cheer. They swarm outside, all six of them. It’s not as cold as Niall remembers it being before. Or maybe he’s drunker. He presses his shoulder into Liam’s, leeching his warmth. 

“Wait,” he says. “How’d _we_ get Sophia?”

“Fuck you!” she shouts from Liam’s other side.

Louis snorts. “Well we’ve got Harry, so even Stevens.” 

“It’s my _birthday_!” 

Louis looks at him askance. “Did you just stomp your foot?”

Harry glares at him, and then leans past him to glare at Zayn when he snorts. He narrows his eyes. “Did you pierce your nose?”

“Harry versus Niall, on the count of three!” Zayn says quickly. “One, two…”

True to his word, Zayn only stays for the one round. It was a nice enough effort, Niall thinks, even if he doesn’t fully understand it. At least the bare minimum is more than none. Sophia begs off too, heading back inside “where there’s heat, you psychopaths.” 

“This was your idea, Soph!” Louis says, but it does nothing to guilt her into staying.

Liam stares after her and for a moment Niall thinks that’s it, that it’s the end of the night, but then Liam turns around, his eyebrows raised, and asks, “Roommate War?” 

“You are going DOWN,” Louis says, reaching for cups to rack the table for beer pong. “Harry, like we’ve been practicing, yeah?”

“Like that’s going to scare us,” Niall says. “Liam and I were _born_ to play this game.”

“Well I was born on this day, so.”

“And you’ll die on this day, too.”

“Payne, getting dark!” Louis claps his hands. “I like it!”

“That is the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Harry says sincerely. His eyes look so huge in the moonlight, the rest of him all shadows. 

“He’s trying to guilt trip you,” Niall stage whispers. “Don’t fall for it.”

“I would never.”

“Birthday boy goes first,” Louis says, handing Harry the ball. His first shot bounces once on the table and then goes sailing between Liam and Niall and right through the railings of the balcony. “Oh for fuck’s sake.”

“Oops.”

Niall has to sit down, he’s laughing so hard. He thinks maybe Liam was right. That everything really is going to be okay.

**

_I have sand in the weirdest places_

Niall stares at Louis’s text for the longest time, trying to remember when they’d actually left the party. He thinks the sun might’ve been coming up.

 _Told u not 2 try 2 steal the turtle_ Liam says. 

_At least we don’t have 2 clean up! :D?_ Niall may feel like death, but at least he and Liam don’t have to vacuum their apartment today. Or ever.

_pls stop texting me I’m dying_

Louis is the first to respond. _Welcome to 22, grandpa!_

Niall almost texts Harry outside of the group, just the sick-mask emoji or maybe a ghost, but he thinks better of it. Turns on do not disturb and tries to sleep off his hangover. 

**

The problem with February is that, once Harry’s birthday is over, it’s just a hellscape of a month. Niall forgets what grass looks like, what the blue sky looks like, and resigns himself to a life of seventy-five layers and bone-deep chill. He barely goes anywhere, just shuttles between classes and home and, now that it’s finally started, his internship a few days a week. 

“Maybe you’ll get a job out of this deal,” Sophia says, “and they’ll let you relocate to some place tropical.”

“That’d be the dream.” He’s lying and they both know it. Winter is a part of his DNA. At least out here it’s just a constant, consistent foot of snow and he doesn’t have to deal with the mountains of it they’ve got at home. The last picture Greg had tweeted showed the drifts were taller than Theo. “How long ‘til break again?”

“Like a month. Oh my god, I can’t wait. If it’s cold, I’m demanding my money back.”

“Yes, that sounds like a thing you can do.”

“Liam’ll convince them,” she says, laughing. “He can just make that sad, pouty face until they feel bad and give us a refund.”

“We’ll send Harry down, too. No one’ll resist those dimples.”

Sophia doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to; the look on her face says more than enough. Niall can feel his cheeks going red. He hadn’t -- they’ve been making jokes about Harry’s stupid face since day one, he hadn’t meant it like _that_ and she knows it.

“Soph.”

“What?” She laughs at the end, betraying the innocent look on her face. 

“I hate you.”

“You’re gonna be late, and then you’re never going to get the job and then I won’t get to move to Bali with you when you relocate.”

Niall winds a scarf around his neck before pulling on his jacket. He debates a hat; it’s only the first week and he’s still trying to make a good impression. He probably won’t get frostbite.

“I love you, Soph,” he says, grabbing his bag, “but Liam would kill us both before the plane landed.”

“All three of us can go, then!” she yells after him. When the blast of cold hits Niall outside, he wonders if moving would be such a terrible idea. He pulls out his phone while he waits for Liam’s car to warm up. 

_What do you know about Bali?_ he texts Harry. The party had been good for like, making things normal again, but sometimes Niall still feels weird talking only to Harry. It’s stupid and he knows he has to get over it. He’s trying.

_It’s an island. Right? Why?_

_Me & Soph are moving there after graduation, u wanna come?_

_YES_  
_Does Liam know?_

Niall laughs. _We’ll invite him too_.

Harry sends a bunch of smiling faces and suns and beach-y emojis that make Niall wish this were a real plan. Or that spring break were sooner. It’s not until he’s settled at his desk that he realizes Harry’s texted again:

 _Louis says we’d better have ducking room for him in this plan_.  
_Fucking*_  
_Obviously. It’s Louis._  
_Also we looked it up and flights are only $800 so start saving! They’re one-way but if we’re moving there it makes the most sense_  
_Oh shit you’re at work right now aren’t you? SORRY. I hope your phone’s on dnd_

 _It’s alright_ Niall sends. He means to say more but his mentor swings by to discuss the project they’re putting Niall on and he never gets a chance.

**

“But Niallllllll.” Liam curls his hands around the top of the doorframe and leans forward, his body swaying. 

“I can’t, I told you, I have this paper to write.”

“This sucks. You never come out anymore.”

“I went out last night, you doughnut.”

“I meant with _me_.”

“We went out --”

“Okay, I didn’t want a list. I just meant it’s been a long time and yes,” he cuts Niall off before he can argue, “a week is a long time!”

“This semester’s been shitty, Li. Like, for all of us.” It’s like just when they managed to get their footing back, reality set in. They haven’t had a chance to hang out, all four of them, since the party because one of them’s always got a paper or a test or work or class or a million fucking other things. Niall’s gotten more emails from his advisor this semester than ever before, and every single one of them makes him feel slightly sick. He knows he’s set to graduate unless he fails all his classes spectacularly, but like. Seeing emails with the subject line _Course Requirements, Final Check-In_ are insane and kind of daunting. He doesn’t feel like it’s their last semester. He isn’t ready for anything to be over.

“No, I know.” Liam looks down at the floor. Even from across the room, Niall can see he’s pouting. It’s a cheap shot. He throws a pen at him.

“Get the fuck out of my room. Go get blasted in my honor.”

“Fiiiiiiine.” Liam makes it sound like a hardship.

An hour later and Niall’s gotten nowhere. He hates this, fucking technical writing requirement, trying to summarize shit so normal people can understand. No one’s going to read an article on industrial wastewater removal, for fuck’s sake.

_A PAPER??? ARE YOU OK???_

Niall laughs at Harry’s text. _This is my hell. It’s payback for all those years of being jealous of you for not having tests_

_You should’ve come out, I always write better when I’ve had a drink_

Fuck, Niall should try that. Except, no, he knows he’d fuck it up somehow. Just forget huge chucks of his paper. Plus, Harry’s probably lying; Niall knows he tries hard in all his classes.

 _Should’ve paid Louis $40 to write it_ he sends. That’s what he’s spent the last half hour considering. Communications majors are supposed to communicate with normal people; he’s the one who should have to translate this shit into regular English.

When Harry doesn’t say anything, Niall makes himself go back to the paper. It’s been better, talking to Harry. It’s almost like it was before, when they were just friends who hadn’t touched each other’s dicks. Sure, Niall misses hooking up with him, but he’d rather have the Harry he can hang out at a bar with than no Harry at all because everyone’s fighting with each other.

He’s written exactly two sentences when his phone vibrates. 

_BEING UR COMPUTER 2 JIMS ILL DI IT_

Niall snorts. _I’m good thanks bro_ he sends to Louis. He doesn’t think his prof would appreciate the typos, and proofreading scientific names is a bitch as it is.

 _I tried!_ Harry sends. 

Niall’s thumb hovers over one of the hearts. He sends a regular smiley face instead. And then he silences his phone and tells himself if he works for an hour without any distractions, he can break into the brownies Karen sent that Liam thinks Niall doesn’t know about.

**

_Oh god_  
_NIALL_  
_I GOT THE EMAIL I’M TOO NERVOUS TO OPEN IT._

_Chicago?_ Niall asks, even though he’d bet all his life savings that that’s what Harry’s talking about right now.

_YES_  
_THE SUBJECT LINE JUST SAYS RE: your application. THAT’S BAD, RIGHT?_

Niall knows Harry’s still typing, he can see the dots, but he sends _Not necessarily_ anyway. His internship acceptance email was just like, the listing ID and his last name. 

_IF I GOT IN IT WOULD SAY CONGRATULATIONS. THATS WHAT UCSC DID_  
_OH OGD. I CAN’T DO THIS_

It’s been four years and the only time Harry texted him this level of meltdown was sophomore year, when he was stupid drunk and trapped on a boat during some massive fight with Taylor.

 _Do you_ , Niall erases his text and thinks about what he’s about to do. He’s being ridiculous. Harry is one of his best friends. _Do you want me to come over?_

_YOU DON’T HAVE TO. Sorry I know I’m being ridiculous_

_Hold on_ Niall sends. _I’ll be there as soon as I find my boots. Turn off your comp until then_

He doesn’t run to Harry’s but he’s out of breath when he gets there. It’s fucking freezing out, makes it harder to breathe normally.

“You didn’t have to come,” Harry says when he opens the door. 

“I know.” Niall leaves his boots in a pile by the door, hanging his coat over Harry’s on the peg. “I wanted to.”

The way Harry just stares at him makes Niall feel hot all over. He’s going to go into shock from the sudden temperature change.

He coughs. “Do you want to, like, just get it over with? Rip it off like a band-aid, or do you want me to read it for you? Or we could just go out. It’s,” he looks at the clock, “only two but doesn’t The Patio serve lunch?”

“It does?”

“Someone told me the sell food during the day.”

Harry wrinkles his nose. “Do they even have tables?”

“Apparently? They like, move them to the sides after seven, or something.” Niall’s never actually seen it set up for food, but he’s never been to The Patio when it’s light outside, so.

“Huh. No, let’s just… I want to do it.” Harry walks over to the futon where the Doc McStuffins blanket is still spread out. Niall feels weird sitting on it, like he should make a joke. Now isn’t the time.

Harry opens his laptop and takes a deep breath. Niall wants to say good luck or something, but everything he can think of sounds fake. He squeezes Harry’s shoulder instead.

Harry’s lips move when he reads and Niall knows, just by his face, that it isn’t good news. Niall’s chest hurts, partly from how he’s holding his breath and partly because of how Harry has visibly deflated.

“Waitlisted.”

Niall’s breath all comes out in a woosh. “Shit. I’m sorry, Harry.”

“I really wanted this one,” Harry says quietly. He’s staring sadly at the floor, twisting one of his rings around and around. Niall doesn’t know what the fuck he could say or do to make him feel better. He knows Harry’s already gotten into a couple programs back home, and the one he’d applied to that’s in like, Minne-fucking-sota, but obviously that’s not the point. 

“There’s still a chance,” he says, because waitlisted isn’t rejected. Harry sighs heavily. They’re sitting close enough that Niall can feel the heat radiating off Harry. It’s the closest they’ve been since the bathroom and Niall knows it’s pointless to think about that shit right now. Not when Harry’s looking so crushed. 

“Come here,” he says, shifting so he can open his arms. Harry slumps into him. 

“This sucks,” Harry mumbles. 

Niall pats his back. “I know.”

Neither of them moves until the front door opens. 

“What’s wrong?” Louis asks immediately, dropping all his things right in the entryway. 

“I got waitlisted,” Harry says. 

“Chicago?” Harry nods. Louis makes a pained noise. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I know you -- fuck.”

“It’s,” Harry sits up, shrugging before leaning forward to shut his computer. He doesn’t finish his thought.

“What do you want then?” Louis asks. “Cider? Spiked hot cider? Tequila straight from the bottle? Wine? I think you finished it, but I can go buy a new box if you want.”

“You guys have hot cider?” 

“Only sometimes,” Harry says. He looks to Louis. “Extra strong?”

Louis snorts. “As if I would make you a weak drink, honestly Harold. Do we have rum? I thought you finished it.”

“I bought more on Monday,” Harry says. “It’s in the pantry.”

“Which one’s the pantry again?” Louis yells. Niall can hear him banging cabinets around, pots and pans, too. There’s water running. It sounds like Louis is setting up for a fucking feast.

“Does he have to like, crush the apples himself?”

“We use k-cups,” Harry says, laughing. “The one across from the fridge, Lou! No, the other one.”

“What other -- oh. Got it!”

By the time he comes back, with three mugs precariously balanced on a textbook, Harry looks slightly less upset. 

“Is it strong enough?” Louis asks, watching Harry blow on his mug before taking a sip. Harry immediately starts coughing.

“Oh my god.”

Niall, curious, takes a sip of his. “Jesus, this is like, fifty percent rum.”

“Do you want more? I can get the bottle.”

“Please don’t,” Harry says. “I didn’t have lunch yet.”

Niall hadn’t, either, and after half a mug he can feel the alcohol kicking in. Jesus. Louis is not fucking around. It’s good, though. Feels normal, like when they used to pre-game over here and all their drinks would be too strong. Niall hasn’t spent a lot of time over here this semester and he’s missed it. He can’t believe he’s missed this silent-as-fuck apartment, but apparently he has.

“Your face,” Harry interrupts Louis’s rant about some dumb basketball player he’s stuck doing a group project to poke Niall in the cheek, “is so red right now.”

Louis laughs. “Good news, Styles is hammered.”

“Already?” Niall shakes his head at Harry. “Poor show, sir.”

Harry’s mouth drops open, offended, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Well, that explains it.” Louis tips Harry’s empty mug in Niall’s direction. “Do you want another one?”

“Yes.”

“Are you good?”

Niall checks his mug, nodding. He’s got like… a third left. “Wait. Maybe I could use a refill.”

“Maybe?” Louis raises his eyebrows, two empty mugs in his hands. Niall knocks back the rest of his drink. Louis chuckles. “Well done.”

Niall shoots him a thumbs up as he belches. Harry applauds. Niall knows Louis would be clapping too if his hands weren’t full.

“Now, I’m going to leave the room for a few minutes, don’t make me regret leaving you alone,” Louis says, gesturing between them. 

Niall can feel his face getting hot and he knows it’s not just because of the rum. Everyone’s been so careful, only bringing up him and Harry when they’re fighting or apologizing. It’s not… he feels like he’s holding himself so rigidly, like his brain’s forgotten how to sit like a normal person. He wants to know if Harry’s reacting the same way, but looking over would probably be weird, right? Would give Louis the wrong idea. 

“Or should I call Liam, have him come chaperone? Maybe you should come with me, Niall. I don’t know if you two can be trusted.”

“Yeah, Lou, I’m gonna jump him the second you’re gone,” Harry says. “Can you please leave?”

Louis’s laugh is sudden and loud but he looks panicked for a second, like he’s not sure if Harry’s fully joking. That’s fair, Niall thinks, because he’s not sure if Louis is fully joking about it, either.

It’s risky, Niall knows, but he’s drunk and that’s why he slides slightly closer to Harry on the couch. Harry loses it then, snorting before he doubles over in hysterics. 

“I’m watching you!” Louis shouts as he leaves the room, the tension broken. “I’ve got eyes in the back of my head. Inherited them from my mom!”

“Do you have x-ray vision, too?” Niall shouts after him, putting space back between him and Harry. 

“Yes, so leave some room for the holy fucking spirit, alright?" Louis is grinning as he hurls a bag of potato chips from the doorway. Niall catches them easily. Honey BBQ, his favorite.

**

It’s such a hectic month that Niall loses track of everything that isn’t an immediate concern, which is why he completely forgets about spring break -- or, the details surrounding spring break. The break itself is the only beacon of hope he has in this sick, sad world, but he tries not to think about it because getting to break is like hiking Kilimanjaro without a game plan.

_What’s the plan 4 break guys… do we know what time were leaving for the airport yet?_

Niall stares at Zayn’s text. They’d planned everything so long ago, he’d completely forgotten Zayn was even coming. Honestly part of him is surprised he’s still planning on it. Even if it was a fuckton of money, it’s not like Zayn has a problem letting shit go without a second thought. 

“Did you -- oh, yeah, you saw,” Liam asks, coming into the kitchen. “I’d forgotten he was supposed to go.”

“Same,” Niall says. His phone buzzes. When Niall looks down, it’s a text from Louis, to their usual group. The new, not-Zayn one.

_Me & H were thinking we should get together and plan shit. All of us_

Niall looks over at Liam, who shrugs. “It’s probably smart, right? To like, figure everything out.”

“Yeah.” It is smart. And they need to do it. Preferably in a place where there’s a lot of beer.

 _Thursday? Your place? 8?_ Liam sends to the group.

Niall gets an entirely new notification a minute later, from Louis in response to Zayn’s message. 

_No one’s planned anything yet. Come over Thursday, we’ll nail everything down. 7 ok?_

_K_ is Zayn’s only response. Niall sends a thumbs up, laughing when Liam texts the cruise ship emoji at the exact same time as Harry.

It’ll be fine. Harry’s party was fine, and this will just be one week-long party.

**

“He isn’t here yet,” Harry says, holding the door open for them. Niall looks past him to where Louis is flat on his back on the futon, a beer resting on his chest.

Liam scratches his head, hanging up both his and Sophia’s coats. “Didn’t we say --”

“Yup,” Louis says. Harry rolls his eyes. 

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Niall says. He goes to the kitchen, comes back with a beer for everyone. Louis grunts when his hits his stomach. 

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Do we really have to plan anything, then?” Liam asks, settling in. “I mean --”

“Are we going to teleport to the airport?” Sophia asks gently. “There’s still a lot to figure out. We can wait for him to get here, but…”

“Who knows how long that’ll be. I texted him at 7:15.” Harry holds up his phone like they’ve asked for proof.

Louis sighs. “As usual, he is unreachable.” He swings around, sitting up so there’s more room on the futon. Niall grabs some before he’s stuck sitting on the floor.

“Hang on, I’ve got a --” Harry fishes under the futon for a moment, coming back with a notebook, “here we go. Liam, you’re a good notetaker, do you want to be in charge?”

“Do we want to be here for a hundred years?” Louis asks. “You do it. I can drive five people to the airport, but only if everyone brings a small suitcase.”

“Louis’s car, three people,” Harry says as he writes. 

“How many of us are there?” Liam asks. He starts counting on his fingers.

“Six,” Harry says. Sophia makes a face.

“Perrie’s not --”

“She’s going to Mexico, I guess? At least, that’s what Zayn said when he gave me his money. It was like, September though, so I don’t know what their plans are. Cancun, I think. No, wait… Cozumel? Which one is the one with Senor Frog’s?”

“Cancun,” Niall says, as Louis says, “Cozumel.”

Harry taps the pen against his lip, thinking. 

“Wait, so I’m the only one?” Sophia hits Liam on the arm. “Are you kidding me?”

“Ow! Soph, what the hell?”

“Oh, come on,” Niall says, “it’ll be fun. It’s not like we’re all cramming into one room together again.” He looks to Harry, who was the one in charge of all the actual booking. “Right?”

“I want to say it was Cozumel.”

“Oh my god.” Louis reaches around Niall to flick Harry in the ear. “How many rooms did you book us for, Styles?”

“Don’t hit me. Six, I mean three. Six people, three rooms. I think they’re all -- oh, no that’s right, they didn’t have adjoining for the price level we wanted, but they’re all near each other.”

Niall grins at Sophia. “See? Not like last year at all!”

They’d done Panama City last year, all of them plus El and Perrie and Jade and their roommates, everyone crammed into two shitbox rooms in the name of saving money. Niall hadn’t even gotten a bed, just crashed on the balcony or the beach or anywhere he could lie flat. It’d been insane. It was part of the reason they all agreed to spend more for the trip this year.

“Obviously we figured you guys were going to be in a room,” Harry says, pointing at Sophia and Liam. “And then… um.”

There’s a stretch of silence as everyone realizes who’s left and all the Bad Idea combinations they make. A Punnett square where nearly every outcome is horrible disfigurement. 

He clears his throat, hoping he doesn’t sound like a dick when he says, “Lou, if you and Zayn are okay --”

Louis narrows his eyes. “You just want to share a room with Harry, I see how it is.”

“No, I was just -- I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Relax,” Louis says.

“I’ll room with Zayn,” Harry says. “That… that’s okay for everyone then, right? You guys get along fine, and him and me are… whatever. I haven’t seen him that much this semester but he came to my party, right? That’s something, and --”

Niall stops Harry with a hand on his arm. “Yeah, that works. Good call, Harry.” It seems smartest that way. The least inviting of drama.

“Look at this,” Liam says, “we are just crushing it at planning. I think we need to take a beer break.”

“Yes,” Louis says immediately. “Thanks for offering, I’m out.” He shakes his empty can until Liam takes it from him and heads to the kitchen.

“I’m assuming Liam’s driving the other car?” Sophia asks. “Or I could, I guess.”

“Smith, this is a _planning break_ ,” Louis says. 

Harry ignores him. “Yeah. Our flight leaves at -- let me check -- ugh, seven --”

“In the MORNING?”

“Yes.”

“I retract my offer to drive,” Louis says. “Seven AM, my god, we have to be at the airport at like, six, which means…”

Niall pats his knee. “Okay, now you’re not saying words, you’re just making sad noises.”

“Have we killed Louis?” Liam passes Niall two beers. He’s apparently loaded up one of Harry’s canvas shopping bags instead of making multiple trips. “That’s good news for you, Niall. Whole room to yourself!”

“I’m going to text Zayn that we’re leaving at like…. four. Does that sound like a lie?” Harry makes a face.

“He’s never gonna make it,” Sophia says. “Can we put money on this? I say ten bucks he misses the boat entirely.”

“The boat? The plane!” Niall says.

“I’m not waiting for him,” Louis says.

“Oh, so you are driving? Good. I didn’t want to erase that.”

Niall laughs when Louis flips Harry off. 

“Maybe we could like, send him everything?” Liam says. “The plans and his ticket and shit. A hundred reminders about his passport. That way it’s out of our hands.”

“Oh shit,” Niall says. His passport. Did he --

“We put them in that lockbox in my closet in August, remember?” Liam says and Niall sighs, relieved.

Louis laughs at him. “That would’ve fucked us over so bad.”

“Where’s yours, Lou?” Harry asks, and it’s Niall’s turn to cackle when Louis pales.

**

Midterms are the last hurdle to clear before break and in the final stretch Niall finds himself wondering if it’s even worth it.

 _What if we just give up?_ he texts Harry on his way home from the library. _If we fail everything intentionally we can just ditch the boat and live on one of the islands_

That way, they get spring break _and_ they avoid all of life’s horrors. It’s win-win.

Harry never responds, though. Probably he’s face-down on his computer, dead halfway through his thesis. Or one of the ninety thousand other horrifyingly long things he’s supposed to be writing this semester. Niall doesn’t know how he does it. He’s got one fucking policy memo due and it’s like, an actual nightmare. He’s shit at focusing enough to write, which is weird. He’s just too used to regular studying or something.

His phone vibrates halfway home, but it’s only Jade, asking if Niall’s got a copy of the study guide because she’s lost her annotated one.

_I only have mine, but if you want to look at it_

_If you bring it by, I can scan it? Or I can meet you somewhere -- library?_

He’s closer to hers than the library, so he tells her he’ll swing by in a few, laughing at all the praise hands she sends back.

“You are a lifesaver,” she says as soon as he shows up. “Like, honestly, I don’t know where the fuck it went, I had it yesterday and now it’s.” She makes a tiny exploding sound. “Can you hang out while I scan this? Or do you need to go? I’ll bring it back to you.”

“No, it’s fine, I can wait,” he says. She seems so frazzled. He gets it, feels the same way when something’s disappeared on him. Especially this close to the test. He’s got his books with him, it’s not like it’ll kill him to study for a few extra minutes.

“Awesome. Help yourself to anything, yell if you need anything.”

“Of course.” He sets up shop on their couch, checking his phone for anything new before giving up and reaching for his notebook. He only looks up when he hears Jade coming down the stairs again. “Done already?”

Only it’s not Jade. Zayn misses a step and grabs the bannister, jogging the last few steps to recover. It’s the first time Niall’s seen him sober since… fuck, like, before he bounced.

“Hi,” he says. “I didn’t…”

“Jade needed my study guide. Micro. Biology.” 

“Ah.” Zayn just stands there, tapping a mostly-empty bottle of water against his thigh. He doesn’t have shoes on, so Niall assumes he wasn’t like, heading anywhere. He wishes he had been. Wishes Jade would come back so he could leave, but it’s only been like five minutes and the study guide is like, ten pages. Front and back. He’s S.O.L. He goes back to reading his notes.

“I got the stuff for the cruise,” Zayn says. “Should be sick.”

Niall hums. 

“Sorry I missed the meeting, I had a… thing.”

“Yeah,” Niall says, because he’d texted as much the next morning. No concrete details, just lame apologies.

Zayn sighs, frustrated. “Can we like, talk?”

Niall looks up, opening his palms up and shrugging. “It’s up to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re the one who stopped talking to me.”

Zayn scoffs. “It’s not like you were tripping over yourself to talk to me, either.”

“It’s different and you know it, Zayn.” Niall hadn’t wanted to get into it because his entire fucking policy this year -- this whole agonizing time -- has been to stay as far away from the mess as possible. Even when everything was imploding, he tried to stay out of the fray. But now that Zayn’s here, arms crossed over his chest, and no one else is around for Niall to worry about upsetting, he can feel it pushing to the surface. “You fucking _left_.”

“An apartment, not the fucking state!”

“You might as well have! You fucking moved out in the middle of the night --”

“I didn’t even live with you!”

“-- and don’t act like we just let you leave, I texted you like, a thousand times and you never responded. I had to call Jade just to find out where the fuck you were.”

“I needed time.”

Niall rolls his eyes, which makes Zayn angry but whatever. “Well then don’t complain that you got it.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Niall stares at him, agape. “I’m sorry would be nice. For being a dick, for disappearing, for fucking fighting with Louis all --”

“He and I are fine, why can’t we be?”

“Because I’m not Louis!” It hangs there for a long time. Niall hadn’t meant to shout. 

“Fuck.” Zayn drops into an armchair like everything’s gotten too heavy for him. He stares at his hands as he talks. “Look, Niall, I didn’t -- everything was so shitty and I was really stressed -- about school, about graduating, about Shahid, and things with Perrie -- and I had to get my head on straight about it. I’m sorry that it went down the way it did, but I had to take care of me. You get that, right?”

He looks up then, his eyes wide, and Niall realizes that everything’s changed too much. That they’ve turned a corner and nothing’s ever going to be like it was. That the best they can hope for is a new, semi-stable state. He gets it now, how Louis had said he was tired of fighting. Sometimes it’s easier to just give in.

“Sure,” he says, even though he’s means it on a different level than Zayn means. Because he gets it this way: Zayn’s priority is Zayn, and it’s always going to be Zayn. That’s fine. Niall knows where he stands. 

Zayn smiles, relieved. “I am sorry, though.”

Niall smiles back. “Thanks, bro.”

They’ll be fine on the trip, he thinks. It won’t be the way they’d assumed when they were first planning it. It won’t even be like last year. But it’ll be okay.

By his leg, his phone vibrates. Harry. _Y PLS. We’ll become fisherman & live a simple life. It is my true dream. I’m throwing all my belongings into the dumpster in preparation_

Niall bites his lip to tamp down his smile.

“I do have a question, though,” Zayn says, before Niall can formulate a response. “When Harry’s itinerary said four AM, was that a joke?”

Niall’s laugh is totally genuine. 

**

“What is he doing?” Niall asks Sophia, the both of them leaning around Liam to watch Louis negotiate with the cruise concierge person. Niall has no idea what that dude’s called, only that he is very patiently nodding while Louis waves his arms around. 

“Getting our keys,” Zayn says from where he’s sitting on the ground. Niall hadn’t even known he was awake. He’s still got his sunglasses even though they’re below deck.

“But why are they arguing about it?” Sophia asks. “Is something wrong? Is this the right boat?”

“Oh god, can you imagine?” Niall doesn’t even know what they’d do. Fuck around in Miami for a week? Maybe they could use his old fake ID to rent a van, everyone sleep in that. But no, they’ve already done the whole check-in process; this whole day’s been nothing but waiting in lines since six am. This is probably something stupid. “Our rooms aren’t ready, I bet.”

“It’s fine,” Liam says, voice tight like he’s concentrating. Probably trying to read Louis’s lips. “He’s got it under control.”

“That’s a lotta faith in Lou,” Zayn says, chuckling. 

Liam doesn’t hear it as a joke. “He can handle it. Oh, look, here we go.”

Harry’s leading the pack, making a face like he hasn’t a fucking clue what’s going on. Niall makes the same face back. 

“This way,” Louis says, blowing past everyone towards the elevators. “We’re on Deck 2.”

“Oh sick, is that up or down?” Liam makes a face. “Don’t look at me like that, I don’t remember what floor we’re on right now.”

“It’s down,” Zayn says, reaching around Niall to punch the button. “Our rooms are basically underwater.”

“The good news is, they’re ready for us. Carlos was telling me a lot of the interior rooms aren’t done yet, but ours are. Our luggage is supposed to be here by dinner or whatever.”

“Oh.” Harry sounds sad.

“I told you to put your bathing suit in your carry-on,” Sophia says. She had told all of them that in at least three different emails and numerous texts. It’s the only reason Niall remembered to take his out of his suitcase.

“I know. I forgot.”

“Aren’t you going to tell us our room numbers?” There’s something weird in the way Liam asks. He’s like, giddy. 

“Anxious to convert those twin beds to a king?” Niall says. “I know Sophia wasn’t around a lot because of midterms but --” He grunts when Sophia punches him in the stomach. “I was _kidding_.”

“You’re a jackass,” she says sweetly. 

“Louis,” Liam says pointedly. Louis rolls his eyes and mutters something Niall can’t hear over the doors sliding open. 

“Left,” Zayn says, reading the signs. “We’re like, two thirty-something.”

Liam and Niall had been in the back of the group when their key cards were being doled out, Louis and Zayn up front getting all the instructions. All Niall remembers from the drawn-out process is handing over his documents and smiling for a security photo.

“Jesus, how big is this boat?” Zayn asks. It feels like they’ve been walking for miles. There are a ton of lights but it’s weird without any windows. Niall feels like he’s in a bunker.

“You alright?” Harry asks him quietly. Niall must be looking pinched. He tries to school his face back to normal. “The room’ll be bigger.”

“No windows, though.” They’d talked about it, getting the nicer rooms just so there’d be windows, but it was expensive as fuck. He’ll be alright. It’s just going to take some getting used to. “It’ll be okay. We won’t be spending a lot of time in them, anyway.”

“Oh, look, right here. Just a quick note, there’s been a change in plans.” Louis stops in the hallway, turning around. He points to the rooms as he says, “Liam and Sophia, you’re here. Zayn, next door. Sneaky-dee and Sneaky-dum, across the hall.”

He points at Harry and Niall as he says the last part, but Niall’s brain doesn’t fully process what he means.

“What?” Harry’s voice is totally flat.

“I had nothing to do with it,” Sophia says, kissing Niall’s cheek before ducking into her room. Zayn’s long gone, so it’s just the four of them left in the hallway.

“I thought we decided --”

Louis shakes his head. “Overruled, Harold.”

Next to him, Liam is fucking losing it laughing. All his words are choppy, nearly incoherent when he says, “We -- if you -- together --”

“Fuck, Payne, get your shit together.” Louis rolls his eyes. “To save everyone -- namely, me -- from further traumatic experiences, we figured it would safer to put you two together.”

“Just in case!” Liam chokes out. “We couldn’t go through it again! We have _suffered_. What if one of us actually went blind this time?”

Niall narrows his eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Louis has managed a straight face so far, but he cracks then. “Nope!” He looks positively gleeful. The sadistic bastard. 

“You changed the rooms just to fuck with us?” Harry asks slowly, like he’s trying to process it. 

“Yup!” 

“It’s been long enough, right?” Liam calms down enough to ask, looking legitimately concerned for a second. “We figured it had. We can like, make fun of it now, right?”

“You’re both the biggest dicks I have ever met,” Niall says as Harry starts to laugh, just a quiet little sound. 

“Ever?” Louis makes a face that Niall thinks is supposed to probably be a dig at Harry. He flips him off. 

Harry’s laugh gets louder. He tries to muffle it but can’t. Niall raises his eyebrows. “Et tu, Styles?”

“I was just remembering Liam’s face in Florida.” He claps his hand over his eyes and makes a strangled sound. Okay, Niall will admit that that, at least, is funny.

“Hey!” Liam says. “I was --” but it gets drowned out in Harry repeating the noise and Niall cracking up. When you take out all the tension that came in the aftermath of it, the exact moment was kind of hilarious. 

Even Louis is laughing, calling, “Be safe!” over his shoulder as he goes into his room. Soon it’s just Niall and Harry standing in the hallway, laughing like a couple of idiots. 

“They’re jerks,” Harry says, unlocking their door. “I can’t believe they did this.”

“I can’t believe Louis is willingly staying with Zayn all week just to fuck with us.” Niall’s still unclear about what happened in the ride back from Christmas break. Doesn’t really want to know; they’re all figuring shit out on their own, dealing with this new version of Zayn in their own ways. Whatever works, he thinks.

The room’s even smaller than he expected. “At least they didn’t ask for our bed to be converted.”

“Oh god, can you imagine?” Harry drops his bag on one of the beds before sitting down. He brushes dirt off his knee. “This is… it’s okay, right? Because we can switch again, I’ll go yell at Louis --”

“It’s fine, Harry. Really.” Niall sits on his bed. “Like, I’d rather share with you anyway, so who cares?”

Harry’s head’s ducked down so Niall can’t see his face, but he nods. “Okay. Cool.”

“I am going to need you to help me murder Liam and Louis, though.”

“They slipped, officer,” Harry says, looking up with wide, innocent eyes. “I didn’t see how it happened, but I think they’d been drinking.”

Niall laughs. “Perfect.”

**

“I still say we could’ve smuggled our alcohol on,” Louis says, tugging on his over-21 wristband. 

Niall rolls his eyes and waits for his drink. “Yes, Lou, your plan of dying vodka the color of mouthwash seemed real possible.”

“Oli said it worked fine for him!”

“Didn’t Oli miss the boat and get stuck in Belize?”

“It was Mazatlan. And he got back on the boat, he just had to fly to the next port. That had nothing to do with the mouthwash, though!” 

“Guys, we are on the OCEAN,” Liam yells, wrapping his arms around both of them. “How sick is this?”

“The sickest,” Niall says. In the distance he can see Harry and Sophia and Zayn looking out over the water. It’s insane that they’re all here, that they’ve made it. He can’t believe it’s fucking spring break already.

Their drinks come -- “we wouldn’t’ve had to wait,” Louis mumbles, and Niall elbows him sharply -- and they all make their way back to the group. 

“I think we should go swimming,” Harry says. “It’s so nice out.”

“I think the pool’s closed, bro,” Zayn says, squinting. He’s proven wrong when a kid comes screaming out of the waterslide. “Or not.”

“It’s saltwater,” Liam says. “Just so you know.”

Louis’s mouth drops open. “Is it? How do you know.”

“Because I -- oh. Shut up.” He kicks his leg out but Louis evades it easily. He’s been upset ever since he and Sophia went in this afternoon and apparently Liam opened his eyes under water. It was the number one topic of conversation at dinner. “We could, though. If you want.”

Harry stares at the pool. He looks like he’s swaying on his feet. Maybe it’s the boat, fucking with Niall’s perception of things. Or maybe it’s that they’re all determined to make the most of their all-you-can-drink deal. 

“Nah,” he says after a bit. “My bathing suit’s really far away.”

“Like, a hundred floors down,” Zayn says seriously. Niall hadn’t realized how low they were until they took the elevators all the way up for dinner. They’re truly in the bowels of the ship. 

“We could go dancing,” Sophia says. Zayn and Niall make the same face.

“Maybe in like, seven beers,” Niall says. 

“You’re not even drinking beer.”

He shrugs. “You caught me!”

“You will dance on this ship, Niall Horan. Mark my words.”

“Ooooh,” Louis and Liam say at the same time. Niall responds with a controlled fall, slowly lowering himself until he’s sprawled out on top of Sophia on her chaise lounge. She shrieks, laughing and hitting him with her free fist. 

“Get off me, you oaf.” 

“Nope, I’m dead. I died here. The thought of the cruise disco has killed me.”

“There’s a tequila bar,” Liam says.

“Is that a map?”

“Yes, Harry, there was one in every room.”

“I don’t think our room had a map,” Niall says, shifting his weight so he’s not crushing Sophia anymore. He doesn’t sit up, though. She’s comfortable and his drink came with a bendy straw. 

“Too busy to look for it, hmm?” Louis makes a pained noise like Harry’s kicked him in the shin. Niall snorts.

“There’s also a show in like, twenty minutes,” Zayn says. He’s bent at a weird angle, reading the back of Liam’s map. “A welcome show, or something? Nevermind, it sounds stupid.”

“Bar it is!” Harry says, with a certainty that says he’s making an executive decision. “Last one there has to order the drinks all night!”

Niall falls off the chair trying to get to his feet. Harry’s already gone. Liam looks torn between helping Sophia and sprinting off.

“This is biased against me!” Zayn shouts, but he’s already ten feet ahead of Niall. Fuck.

**

“I DON’T THINK THIS PLACE CLOSES,” Liam shouts, his hands on Niall’s cheeks. He doesn’t know what time it is -- it could be like, ten PM, who the fuck knows, they’ve been up for a million years.

“IT IS MAGICAL.” It feels like a normal night at Jim’s, except there’s open-air and Niall’s in shorts and a tank top and when they’d left this morning there was a foot of snow on the ground. 

Sophia’s long gone, had begged off after nearly falling asleep in a margarita bigger than her head. Harry looks like he’s not long for this world, either, slumped in a booth with Louis and Zayn. He jerks upright when Niall slides in next to him. Probably because Niall bounces the seat with as much force as possible.

“Hi!”

“Niall! Did you know tomorrow we’ve got a whole day at sea?”

“We’re coming back here first thing in the morning,” Louis says. “And staying here all day.”

“Soph’s gonna die,” Liam says sadly.

Niall frowns. “I wanted to go down the slide, though.”

Harry lights up. “The slide! Lou!”

“Okay. Slide, and _then_ here. Oh, Zayn can come and save our spots!”

“What?” Zayn looks up at the sound of his name. His eyes aren’t great at focusing; he looks even more gone than Harry. “Okay.”

“This booth, Zayn,” Louis says, tapping the tabletop with both palms. “I want them to put up an in memoriam plaque by the end of the trip.”

“Because we died here?” Harry’s got his head resting on the wall now, his arms crossed over his chest like he’s gonna go straight to sleep. “That’s bleak, Lou.”

“I don’t wanna die here,” Liam says. “I have plans.”

Harry scrunches down, curling in on himself. Niall gives him thirty seconds before he’s out cold.

Louis rolls his eyes. “We all want to graduate, Payne. My plans involve more drinks. Move.” 

“Me too!” Niall says, Louis waving that he’s heard. Zayn gives up the ghost and puts his head on his arms on the table. “And then there were two.”

“I didn’t mean graduation.”

“But I thought your capstone was going better once you met with your advisor.” Liam had had like, fifty-seven different meltdowns the week before break alone. 

“No, it is, I meant, like.” Liam looks at Zayn and then Harry. He chews on his lip for a second before reaching into his back pocket and digging out the map from earlier. When he unfolds it, Niall can see the other side is an itinerary. So that’s how Zayn knew about the welcome show. Huh. “Remember what we talked about?”

He’s talking so quietly Niall has to lean across the table to make sure he can hear. “Which time?”

“About me and Soph and like, the future.” Liam runs his finger over _Day 4: Grand Cayman_. Niall’s stomach dips like he’s on a rollercoaster. “When we came back from break?”

“Yeah.” This, fuck, this isn’t the kind of conversation they should be having when they’re so drunk two of them are passed out at the table. “Are you -- did you -- wait.” He’s got eight thousand questions running through his head and can’t focus enough to spit one out.

Liam, thankfully, just laughs. “No, like. I’m going to, though. This week. Both, I mean. I talked to her dad a couple weeks ago --”

“And you didn’t say?” Niall hits his arm.

“You had that poster presentation thing you were killing yourself over, I wasn’t going to bother you.”

“It’s not a _bother_ , Liam, this is _huge_.”

“I know, which is why I’m telling you.” Liam’s got a light in his eyes that Niall’s never seen before. It’s like an actual fucking sparkle. It’s disgusting. Niall wants to hug him right here. “I’m gonna get a ring in the Caymans and I want you to come help pick it out, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s fucking okay.”

“And then as long as we find one, I’m gonna ask her. Here. The night before we go home.”

“Ask who what?” Harry rubs his knuckle into his eye. Niall blinks, unsure if Liam wants him to know, or if this is a roommate secret. 

Liam pauses, smiling to himself before he says, “I’m going to propose to Soph this week.”

“Liam!” It’s probably a trick of the lights, but it looks like Harry tears up for a second.

“You told them?” Louis comes back with three drinks and a water. “I wanted to see their faces!”

“You knew?”

“Of course I did.” Louis crosses his eyes at Harry and bumps Liam’s side, waiting for him to budge over so he can sit again. “Tried to talk him out of it, didn’t I?”

“You did not,” Harry says.

Louis’s face does something strange but Liam just beams, his arm curling around Louis’s shoulders and tugging him close. “No, he didn’t.”

“Shit, Liam.” Niall shakes his head. Liam’s wedged in the middle now so he can’t give him a hug. He settles for squeezing his hand, hard as he can. Shit. “This is… Shit.”

“Right?” Louis holds up his drink. “A toast. No, not you, water’s bad luck.”

Harry frowns but brings his water back to his chest. 

“To you,” Louis says, “and pure dumb luck, and nabbing a girl so much better than you.”

Niall expects Liam to protest, but all he does is grin from ear-to-ear.

**

He doesn’t know what the fuck time it is when he wakes up. The clock on the nightstand between him and Harry is blinking 4:43. He vaguely remembers Harry tripping and accidentally yanking it out of the wall when they got in. Honestly, he’s impressed they plugged it back in at all.

“Did I wake you up?” Harry’s voice is all crackly. It reminds Niall of how he sounded after a blowjob. It’s too much for this hour. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I think the grim reaper woke me up, not you.”

Harry laughs, low and throaty. “I’m going to get a burger somewhere. It’s only eleven, but some place on this boat has to have burgers now, right?”

Niall sits up a bit, intrigued. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll come with you?”

“Sure.”

**

They don’t run into anyone else until late afternoon, when Sophia spots them from across the lido deck. “Niall?”

“Hey!” He feels a million times better than he had, but he’s still been nursing the same beer for a while now. “How are you?”

“The spa is amazing.” She and Liam are in matching robes. Niall remembers Liam’s bright eyes last night and wills himself not to laugh.

“Please don’t tell Harry about it,” he says. “He made me get a manicure with him once and I’m still recovering.”

“He what?” Liam bursts out laughing. 

“Be nice.” Sophia elbows him, which Niall thinks is very kind of her until she adds, “Zayn used to let Perrie do his nails all the time, remember?”

“You know what? We were having a very nice day until you two showed up.”

Liam looks to where Harry’s sacked out on a lounge chair. “I’m sure you were.”

“You can’t even wink, fuckface. Why do you ever try?”

“We’re going to shower,” Sophia grabs the sash of Liam’s robe, leading him away, “we’ll see you guys at dinner?”

“Was that Louis?” Harry sits up after they’re gone, looking around.

“No. Soph and Liam.” He hasn’t seen Louis all day; he’d been gone when they knocked on his door earlier, Zayn shrugging and saying he hadn’t seen him. 

“What’d they want?”

“Just…” Niall sighs. “Being jerks about us. You know. The usual.”

Harry looks over, his mouth all screwed up like he wants to say something. He lets out his breath instead, standing up. “I”m going to shower before dinner. Are you staying here, or…”

They’ve got like, an hour, and there’s nothing to do in that shoebox of a room. But Niall’s probably minutes from burning, so he shrugs and says, “Nah, I’ll come with.”

It’d be boring, sitting up here alone. He can find some dumb movie to watch while they get ready.

**

They all make it longer than they had last night, but eventually Sophia and Liam beg off, Soph rudely gesturing at everyone’s catcalls. Zayn disappears and then Niall turns around and Louis is gone. 

“Do you want another one?” he asks Harry, kind of hoping he says no. The line is so long tonight. He’s not in the mood to wait.

“We could just get like, room service beers?”

“Yes.” Harry has the best ideas. “And fries. Do you think they have fries?”

Harry’s nose wrinkles up as they head for the elevators. “They have crudite, I know that.”

“Crudite.” Niall scoffs. “You are so weird.”

“You are,” Harry says, pressing the button for their floor. 

Niall lurches when the elevator starts moving. He holds onto Harry for support, doesn’t let go of his arm until they’re all the way to their room.

“It’s so stupid.”

“What is?”

“This. Us.” Harry kicks off his shoes. When he turns around, he’s just in his mostly-unbuttoned shirt and a pair of jeans. He doesn’t look any different than normal. Niall doesn’t know why he’s staring. “I mean, if everyone’s going to make fun of us all the time for hooking up when we’re not actually hooking up, then --”

“Wait. What?” Niall’s confused, his brain sluggishly trying to catch up with what Harry’s saying. It sounds like the same words repeated over and over until they have no meaning. He reaches out, grabbing the hem of Harry’s shirt. He’s so close. This room is so stupidly small, which is terrible but also kind of good.

“Nothing,” Harry says. “I just --”

“Are you saying it’s stupid that we’re not hooking up?”

The room falls silent. Niall thinks he can hear the waves lapping the sides of the ship, it’s that quiet. He probably can’t. They’re in the middle of the goddamn boat. They don’t even have a fucking window.

Harry drops his arms, his whole body slumping. “Isn’t it? If Louis and Liam and even Sophia are making jokes…”

Niall feels like the whole boat is tipping sideways, everything he knows to be true slipping out from underneath him. Harry’s right, he thinks. What’s the point in trying to stay apart if no one cares that they’re trying?

“We,” he takes a step forward, eating up the distance between him and Harry, “what if --”

He can feel it when Harry inhales, is close enough that he can see the way Harry’s chest expands before he says, “Niall.”

It feels like they’re in Cara’s bathroom again. Or Harry’s stupidly quiet bedroom. Niall closes his eyes, giving himself one last second to consider before he thinks fuck it and kisses Harry. 

Nothing’s new or different, it’s exactly like it always was, which is why Niall feels weird about how good it is. He hasn’t made out with anyone since Harry’s birthday, is probably why. He’s just hard up, and the way Harry chuckles before guiding Niall towards the bed is so familiar he wants to die. He’s missed everything about this so much, and he knows Harry has too, and he’s right, it has been stupid, the two of them staying apart when no one fucking cares what they do. Everyone’s fine now. They’ve been stuck on this ship for almost two days and it’s been great.

Harry seems to realize it the same second Niall does, because he stops kissing Niall long enough to push himself up and ask, “Is this -- this is okay, right?”

Niall feels breathless, stupid with the way he laughs, his fingers already inching under the waistband of Harry’s jeans. “Fuck yeah.”

Harry lights up, his whole face going open, relaxed. “Good.” 

It’s been so long, Niall’s hard already, groaning when Harry works his fly down, helping Niall kick out of his shorts. “You missed me, I see.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Niall says, hiding his grin in Harry’s neck. He wonders if it’s okay to leave a mark there. He doesn’t, even though he wants to. 

“Jesus.” All the air leaves Harry’s lungs when Niall shifts his hips, rolling them to the side, Harry’s arm smacking into the wall. “Careful. Niall, I’m gonna have a bruise.”

“Sorry.” Niall makes a face when Harry shows him his elbow, ducking his head so he can kiss it better. He must be super drunk because he actually feels bad about it. “How about I make it up to you?”

“Please,” Harry says sweetly, smiling up at Niall before reaching for him, dragging him back down for a kiss. Niall’d forgotten how good it was making out with Harry -- or, he hadn’t forgotten, really, he’d just refused to let himself think about it. Everything comes back in a rush, though, and Niall feels dizzy with it. Harry lifts his hips when Niall tugs at his waistband, and just like that, Harry’s naked. 

He hasn’t gotten any new tattoos since the last time. Niall’s surprised and he isn’t. Harry bites his lip when Niall thumbs the head of his cock, swallowing whatever noise he might have made. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he says, once he’s regained control. 

Niall makes a face. “What do you want me to do?” Maybe it’s an unfair question, since he’s already leaning down, tongue out, while his thumb brushes Harry’s hole.

“Jesus Christ,” Harry says, his hands fisting in the sheets. Niall’s drunk enough that he doesn’t care that he’s basically drooling on Harry’s cock, getting everything all slick. He runs his finger through the mess, grinning internally when Harry sucks in a breath. “This is -- fuck, Niall.” 

There isn’t enough to make it an easy slide so Niall goes slow, feeling the way Harry opens up for him. 

“Do you, shit, do you have anything?” Niall sits up, Harry’s cock falling out of his mouth as he blinks at him.

“Anything what?” It’s a dumb question, maybe, but Niall feels dumb right now. The fucking dumbest. Is Harry actually --

“Lube? Or like,” Harry shifts and Niall’s finger slips a little deeper. His face does a million different things at once. NIall has to look away. “Condoms? Niall, fuck, we could.”

“Um.” Niall racks his brain, trying to remember. “I can… I can check?”

“Yeah.” Harry pushes up on his elbows. “Check. Do it.”

It’s a scramble then, Niall searching through his suitcase and his wallet and his carry-on. “Fuck. Do you?”

“No?” Harry nods towards his pants and Niall checks his wallet, too, frowning when he comes up empty. “What the fuck.”

“We’re idiots,” Niall says, kneeling on the foot of the bed. Harry’s got one hand around his dick; he’s not jerking himself off, but he’s not _not_ jerking it, either. Niall wraps his hand around Harry’s. “Who goes on spring break empty-handed?”

“Dumbasses,” Harry says, moving his hand faster. Niall can see the way his abs tighten. He can’t believe he’s so close even after all this rummaging around. “We’ll -- fuck, we can get them at the gift shop or something tomorrow. Steal some from Louis or whatever.”

Niall’s dick jumps at the very thought. Tomorrow. Fuck.

Harry gasps, pushing his hips up into both their hands. “Can you just -- please?”

Niall doesn’t know what, exactly, Harry’s asking for, but he chances a guess, ducking down to take the head of his cock in his mouth. It seems like a good idea, judging by the way Harry lets out the world’s loudest moan.

He pulls off to say, “You’re doing me after,” and Harry laughs hoarsely,waving his hand through the air like yeah yeah. That’s as much of an agreement as Niall needs. Harry was right, it was stupid not to do this for so long. 

**

“Good news,” Harry corners him at a market in Kingston, glancing around to make sure no one’s nearby, “the gift shop sells condoms. I don’t know how much I paid for them, probably like, forty bucks, but everything gets charged to the room, so I just signed it and ran out.” 

Niall laughs, willing his face not to go red. Though if it does, who the fuck cares. It’s hot as dicks on this island, no one would even notice. Not that Louis and Zayn would look up from negotiating their drug deal long enough to care.

“Why are you laughing? This is important, Niall. Or did you want to wait until we get back?”

“No.” Niall stops watching Louis and looks at Harry. He kind of wants to kiss him right then, but Sophia’s trying on hats two stalls over and it’s a stupid urge anyway. He can wait until they’re back in their room. “It’s just, I stole some from Louis this morning. He has like, a whole fucking box packed. You actually _bought_ some?”

“I was being responsible!”

“That’s… that’s impressive, Harry.” Niall really wants to kiss him now, settles for squeezing his waist. He feels warm, and not just from how this godforsaken island is hot as fuck right now. Maybe when they get back they can jump in the pool, just to cool off. Maybe then Niall can get his fucking wits about him. 

“Safe sex is --”

Niall slaps his palm over Harry’s mouth. “Please shut up. If you ever want my dick near you again, you’ll shut up.”

Harry laughs through his nose, his breath coming out in a gust. Niall waits a moment before taking his hand away. 

“If you’re not comfortable talking about it, then you’re probably not ready to have it.”

“That’s it.” Niall starts walking away. He’ll fucking blow up Louis and Zayn’s spot, if it comes to it. He doesn’t care, he just needs to get away. “We had a good run, but now it’s over.”

“Aw, Soph,” Liam makes a sad sound, “it’s a lover’s spat.”

Niall flips him off over his shoulder. These fuckheads and their dumb jokes.

Sophia says, “Don’t say lover, Li. Gross.”

**

It’s late by the time they get back to their room, well after dinner. It’d been hard to find a way to duck out without it seeming suspicious, both Niall and Harry nursing their drinks until everyone else was gone or preoccupied enough not to notice.

“This,” Niall stops just over the threshold of their room, “this is weird.”

Harry’s hands on his hips are almost as distracting as Harry’s mouth on his neck. Fuck. Niall should be drunker for this. Or more sober, he can’t decide. 

“I had them convert it to a king while we were gone,” Harry says. “I figured --”

“No, yeah, obviously.” Niall can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it. Fuck. It’s such a good idea. He turns around, pressing Harry up against the door. “A+ on that one, Styles.”

He keeps telling himself tonight isn’t any different than any of the other nights they’ve hooked up, but the problem is he knows he’s lying. All while they’re making out, undressing, even while Harry’s blowing him, all Niall can think of is the condoms he’d stolen from Louis, waiting in his bag. The condoms Harry’d bought at the gift shop, wherever the fuck they are. 

“Harry. Hey, Harry.” He tugs on his hair until Harry pulls off, his mouth gone all slick and shiny even in the dim light. Should they turn off the lamp? The room’s pitch black without it, but maybe. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, just.” Niall urges him up, kissing him, twisting until they’re both on their sides. “I don’t… know if I could --”

“Not feeling confident in your abilities?”

“Shut up.” Niall laughs, biting Harry’s jaw. “I just…” He doesn’t want to wait but he doesn’t know how to say it. It feels like sitting through the opening act. Good -- great, even, in the case of Harry’s mouth, but like. Underwhelming, when you’re waiting for the main event. He slides his hand over Harry’s hip, grinding against him as they kiss, wondering if the gentle skim of his fingers over Harry’s crack gets his message across.

It must, judging by the way Harry moans, rolling onto his back, his legs falling open. 

“Front pocket of my suitcase,” Harry manages, pointing. He’s a sight, all splayed out. The room feels so much bigger than it is when Niall’s looking at him from farther away. 

Harry’d bought lube, too, which was a good call. He chucks the bottle and a couple condoms onto the bed, ignoring the way Harry raises his eyebrows. Whatever. It’s easier to grab multiple than fight with the one fucking unperforated wrapper. 

By the time he gets back to the bed, Harry’s already uncapped the lube and worked the tip of one of his fingers inside himself. 

“Jesus,” Niall says, feeling like the air’s been punched out of him. 

“What?”

“Just.” He watches for a minute, torn between the way Harry’s finger slides deeper and the way his lip goes white where his teeth are digging into it. Harry’s dick is leaking like crazy, precome pooling on his abs. Niall slides his fingers through it, collecting it up and using it to slick up his cock. Harry sucks in air through his teeth, his whole body going taut like he hadn’t expected it.

He’s stopped moving his finger. Niall traces one of his around Harry’s, not pressing in, just testing. It’s overwhelming, thinking about fucking Harry. Every time he tries to it’s like his brain short circuits. 

“Do it,” Harry says, and Niall has to take a deep breath before drizzling lube over his hand and working one of his fingers in alongside Harry’s. It’s weird, the two of them trying to sort it out, and Harry gives up, pulls out and lets Niall work two inside, and that helps. Makes it less confusing. 

He remembers this part from Florida, trying to reach deep and find the spot inside Harry that had made him lose his fucking mind.

“Fuck.” Harry shakes when he does, squeezing his eyes shut. “You gotta…”

Niall waits for the rest of the sentence but it never comes. “What?” It could be anything, he thinks. Stop. Wait. Go harder. Go slower. Put your dick in me now. 

Harry moves his knee, pulling it up to his chest. Niall feels bad for all the times he made fun of Harry for going to fucking yoga. He leans forward, kissing the bend of Harry’s knee and then his stomach and his collarbone and then his mouth. Harry relaxes enough that his breathing sounds less ragged.

“One more,” he gets out, his breath hot on Niall’s cheek. He’s so sweaty already, his hair curling at his temples and the base of his neck. “I think if you just -- one more, and then I’ll be ready.”

“Okay.” Niall pushes up so he can see what he’s doing. That seems to do the trick because Harry’s biting his lip, flushed from head to toe, one of his hands wrapped tight around the base of his cock. 

“Fuck, Niall, okay. Okay.”

“Okay?” Niall knows he looks like a wide-eyed mess, watching Harry scoot away from his hands. Maybe it’s not okay. Harry doesn’t look miserable, not like he had halfway through, when Niall’d only been to the second knuckle on three fingers and he’d offered to stop so many times Harry told him to shut the fuck up. But he doesn’t look completely sold, either. 

“Yeah. I’m -- hang on.” Harry reaches for a pillow, dragging it down and shoving it under his hips. It helps, Niall thinks. Makes the angle better. “Okay.”

Niall touches his thumb to Harry’s hole, marveling how easy it is to slide in now that he’s a little stretched. Harry pushes back, seeking it out, and Niall has to grip his own cock when it jerks. Fuck. He reaches for the condom. 

He pauses, the tip of his dick so close to Harry’s hole that it’d be easy to sink right in. “Are you --”

“Yes,” Harry says immediately. There’s a tremble in his voice, though, one that matches the shakiness Niall feels in his own bones. It’s settling, somehow, realizing Harry’s just as freaked out about this as he is. Niall lets go of his dick and braces himself over Harry, kissing him for a long moment, until the uneasiness is mostly gone and Niall feels more relaxed. He thinks Harry does, too. Hopes he does, at least.

“Okay.” Niall doesn’t know if he’s saying it more to himself or to Harry as he settles between Harry’s legs again. Harry smiles at him, this brief, dopey thing that makes Niall feel better about everything, even as Harry’s spreading his knees wider, his hips canting in a way that makes Niall’s heart rate speed up. It feels real in a way that reminds him of Harry’s apartment after Thanksgiving. Their room’s equally quiet right now.

Harry closes his eyes when Niall starts to press in, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. He’s so tight, so hot, that Niall has to close his eyes, too, every fiber of his being concentrated on not shoving all the way in immediately. 

“Keep going,” Harry says after the longest minute of Niall’s life. His voice sounds thin, foreign and his knuckles are white where he’s holding onto the sheets. Niall would have welts if Harry were holding onto him. Bruises that’d last for days. 

“Jesus,” Harry says when Niall finally bottoms out and stays there. The look on Harry’s face is too much. Niall closes his eyes. He wants to kiss Harry but he’s afraid to move. Harry’s hand settles on his shoulder, tentative. “Okay, but like… Go slow?”

Niall nods jerkily. He’ll try. 

He thinks they get a decent rhythm going, Harry eventually getting it together enough to jerk himself off in time to Niall’s thrusts, but Niall knows it’s only barely. 

“Fuck, Harry,” he says. “This is -- you feel, fuck, so good.” He’s coming sooner than he has in ages, like, embarrassingly quickly, while Harry’s still jerking himself off. 

“Shit,” he says, feeling useless. All he manages to do is make out with Harry until he comes, and then he has to leave the bed to get rid of the condom. His legs are still shaking when he comes back from the bathroom. 

“Are… was…” He doesn’t know how to ask it, doesn’t want to ask the wrong question. He stops talking, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair instead, tracing the shell of his ear. Harry takes the washcloth that had previously been folded into an octopus and wipes his stomach off. 

“I think I need to shower,” he mumbles, contradicting himself by tugging Niall down onto the bed. There’s a seam where the two twins have been pushed together. Niall crowds on top of Harry to avoid it. 

“We probably should,” he says, kissing Harry’s jaw. 

“In like, ten minutes.” 

“Future us can shower,” Niall says, feeling Harry’s hum all the way down to the tips of his toes.


	5. Chapter 5

When Niall wakes up to the sound of his phone going off with a text, one of his hips is half jammed into the crack in the middle of the bed and Harry’s snoring on top of him. It’s uncomfortable, but in a grounding way that Niall doesn’t want to disturb as his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. He lifts his hand tentatively, skimming it over Harry’s back down the curve of his ass. As usual, Harry hadn’t bothered putting anything on after their mostly silent shower, both of them too tired and fucked out to do much more than make out for a few minutes under the spray before tossing the bedspread on the floor and falling into bed still damp.

“Harry,” Niall whispers into Harry’s hair, scraping his nails gently over Harry’s skin. “Harry.”

“Mmmm,” Harry pushes his face into Niall’s shoulder, shifting slightly on top of him. “Shhh, I’m sleeping.”

“My ass is asleep,” Niall tries to wiggle out of it without moving too much and Harry groans, rolling over on his back. “What? Come back.”

“Can’t." Harry’s voice sounds strangled, and when Niall looks down he’s got his hand covering his cock. “You were moving too much.”

“Again?" Niall laughs at Harry’s groan when he rolls over to press a kiss to Harry’s shoulder, then his neck. Harry groans again, turning and sliding over until they’re sharing a pillow, Niall nearly going cross-eyed when he tries to look at Harry’s face.

“Is it okay if I like,” Harry laughs softly, tipping his forehead against Niall’s and lowering his voice. “I want to fuck again, but not right now? I need like...halftime.”

“Of course." Niall plants his hand on Harry’s chest and leans back to get a better look at Harry’s face when he asks, “Are you like, okay? Or...”

He thinks about the night before, Harry’s face when Niall had finally, finally bottomed out. The noises he made. He’d said he was okay and Niall knows he was, knows Harry would have said otherwise. 

“Yeah, I’m okay, trust me." Harry bites at his lip. “It’s not a bad...uh...feeling? And like I said, I really want to but --”

“Right." Niall nods. “Halftime. Marching band’s on the field. You need one of those cushions that Liam’s mom uses for games.”

“Shut up,” Harry’s got a dumb perfect curl hanging down in his eyes, and Niall brushes it away before he leans forward, kissing Harry quick. “Wanna make out though?”

“Fuck, yeah.” Niall moves on this back, Harry going with him until he’s pressing him into the bed. “Hold on though, my phone --”

“Your _phone_?" Harry tries to pull at Niall when he reaches over to the nightstand. “That’s what you’re worried about right now?”

“We abandoned everyone without saying anything, I want to make sure there weren’t any murders." Niall thumbs at his screen, opening his texts and seeing a bunch from Liam. “Oh shit, I forgot what day it was. Liam wants me to go with him today when we dock, help him shop.”

“Shop?" Harry looks confused for a moment. “Oh wait, like…”

“Yeah." Niall responds to Liam quickly, locking his phone before rolling so he’s on top of Harry. “I have fifteen minutes, let me see what you got.”

“No pressure." Harry tugs at Niall’s hair, pressing his lips to the underside of his jaw. “It’s good, I’d told Louis we’d hang out today.”

“Guess Sophia’s on Zayn duty.”

“Listen,” Harry laughs against Niall’s neck, “we can talk about this stuff, or we can make out for ten minutes. Your choice.”

“I said fifteen." Niall tangles his legs with Harry’s, who groans again.

“Five minutes, or we talk about the state of our friends.”

**

“Liam,” Niall stands in the street. “How many places are we gonna go?”

“I’ll know it when I find it, Niall.” Liam grins at Niall, and Niall can see how red his face looks already in Liam’s aviators. He should have listened to Harry when he told him to put on more sunscreen. 

“Yeah, but." Niall pushes his hand through his hair, feeling how much he’s sweating. “We look less and less like two dudes who have the money to get an engagement ring the more time we spend trekking around outside between stores.”

“Niall,” Liam shakes his head, “that’s...that’s like _classist_.”

He raises his eyebrows after he says it, tilting his head, and Niall wonders when Liam started sounding so much like Harry when he’s on one of his rants. 

“Fuck off.” Niall pushes at Liam’s back, following him into yet another store with an endless display of rings. Personally, Niall had loved one of the first ones they saw. There was just something about it, he and Liam both agreeing that it looked like it was made for her finger. 

“What about this one?" Liam points to a huge sparkly one in the center. Niall can already tell it probably costs more than two solid years’ worth of tuition. That’s been the hardest part; watching Liam’s face fall fast every time he learns that bigger diamonds cost more money. 

“That looks expensive,” Niall whispers, seeing that there’s someone who’s noticed them. “Liam, I really think we should go back to that first one.”

“What if she hates that first one?" Liam pushes his aviators further up on his head, his eyes wide. “Niall. This is important.”

“I know it is." Niall does. He wants it to be fucking awesome for both of them. He feels more invested than he ever thought he would, and he’s not entirely sure why. 

Liam takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

“We’ll go to as many places as you need to, really." Niall puts his arm around Liam’s shoulder. “We only have a couple more hours, but if we have to stay here until then, that’s fine.”

“Thanks, Niall." Liam smiles over at him as the assistant makes their way over to where they’re standing. “You’re a good best friend to me.”

**

“And after all that,” Niall says to Harry as he changes for dinner, peeling his sweat-soaked shirt off, “we just went back to the first place.”

“Is it great?" Harry asks, leaning back on the bed. “Like, she’ll love it? I should have insisted on going.”

“It is, and also,” Niall pauses with his hand half in his suitcase, “fuck you, I was a good help.”

“I’m not saying you weren’t good help." Harry grins. “I’m saying I’d be _better_ help.”

“Yeah, well,” Niall shrugs on his shirt, Harry grabbing the hem and pulling him toward him on the bed, “Sophia likes me more than you.”

“That’s because,” Harry starts buttoning Niall’s shirt like he can’t do it himself, “you’re Sophia’s like, second boyfriend. Did you pick out a ring for yourself, too?”

“Yeah, it’s blue to match my eyes." Niall shoves at Harry’s hands, laughing. “You fucked this up.”

“You were distracting!” Harry rolls over on the bed, rifling through his own suitcase for something before coming up with one of his scarves, the one with glasses all over it. He sits up, winding it around his head, and Niall turns away entirely, embarrassed because all he can think about is when he and Liam got back and Louis and Harry were lying out, Harry in the dumb small as fuck yellow bathing suit he’d insisted on bringing. 

“You’re all tan already," Niall says to the wall, unable to help himself.

“And you’re all burnt." Harry’s shrugging, popping a piece of gum in his mouth when Niall turns around. “All’s as it should be." 

“I’m not _that_ burnt." 

“Enough." Harry chews his gum slowly, a flash of white in his mouth as he slowly smiles. “Bet it’ll be hot to sleep next to you tonight.”

“Harry." Niall closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “We have to go to dinner.”

“I was just making a declarative statement." Harry laughs when Niall opens his eyes and crosses his arms. “Simple. A simple statement.”

“You’re fucking awful.”

“I’m fucking _great_." Harry stands up, stretching his arms over his head. Niall thinks he could do with probably more than just the two buttons on his shirt done up. “So when is he doing it?”

“Tomorrow night." Niall grabs his phone, checking the time. “C’mon, we’ve got like, an hour elevator ride up to dinner and we don’t need anyone noticing we’re late.”

“Yeah,” Harry makes his way to the door, “if we were late and gonna get shit for it, I’d want it to be for an actual reason related to fucking and not watching you primp yourself for dinner.”

Niall flips him off on the way out the door.

**

“How much money have we lost?" Harry asks, Zayn making a face.

“Not much, I don’t think?" Zayn leans forward on the edge of the table. “I think if Li rolls a hard eight we’ll break even?”

“Nope,” Niall hates to ruin their lives for the millionth time that night, since they set foot in the casino, really, but craps is not even that hard to understand. “Where on that table and what we’ve bet makes you think that?”

“Uh, that,” Zayn points, Harry nodding next to him.

“That’s where our money is, Niall. Our bet." Harry’s eyes are wide, and he crowds in close to press his forehead to Niall’s. “Right?”

“No,” Niall pulls away before he kisses Harry while Zayn watches. “Wrong.”

Liam rolls a nine anyway, and they break even, not that anyone but Niall gets why. In the past hour since Harry, Liam, and Zayn had decided they wanted to figure out craps, Niall’s pretty sure he’s the only one who’s actually figured out farther than, “so you roll the dice.”

“Here,” Niall points where Harry should place the next bet. “Try that. And there.”

“Ni, you’re sucking the fun outta this, gotta say." Zayn elbows him after he says it, smiling like he wants Niall to know he’s just joking. It’s weird. He wonders how much weed he and Louis had actually bought. 

“He’s just trying to make us understand,” Harry sighs, sagging between Zayn and Niall when he throws his arms around them both. “Niall’s a numbers guy. He’s not about like, words.”

“How much have you had?" Niall thought he was drunk, but clearly Harry’s got him beat. “You’re nearly making sense, Harry.”

“Ah, shove it." Harry turns his head when he says it, raising his eyebrows. He squeezes Niall’s shoulder, and Niall’s pretty sure he keeps his face mostly okay. 

“Is no one gonna watch me roll?" Liam calls out, and Zayn ducks out of Harry’s grip. 

“Li, no, I’m not blowing on those,” Niall can hear Zayn say before Harry’s ducking his head down, whispering in Niall’s ear. 

“Know something you can blow.” Harry’s too close for Niall to handle; he’s suddenly infinitely more drunk than he thought. 

“Harry,” Niall reaches down to squeeze his hip, Harry straightening up and winking at him. Jesus. “Later, yeah?”

“Not to interrupt you two,” Louis’s voice cuts through Niall’s disgusting thoughts, Louis and Sophia walking up behind them, “but this one here just kicked my ass at blackjack so I’m about done.”

“Sophia,” Harry throws his arm around her shoulders, “we need you to be our good luck charm, you can roll for us next our next go.”

“Is it hard to figure out?" Sophia pops up on her tiptoes, looking over Niall’s shoulder at the table behind them.

“YES,” Harry nods, at the same time Niall says, “not at all.”

Sophia laughs, Louis snorting next to her. “So which is it?”

“Ask the dealer, once he explains it you’ll be fine." Niall ignores it when Harry sticks his tongue out at him. “They need your help, to be honest.”

“Heyyy,” Harry pauses, “he’s a little bit right.”

“Not to alarm you,” Liam says loudly behind them, “but I think Zayn and I just lost a decent amount of money.”

“Christ." Sophia wraps her hand around Harry’s wrist as it dangles on her shoulder, pulling him with her, “Harry, c’mon.”

“Yes, ma’am." Harry stumbles along with her, winking at Niall as he passes.

“Did she really clean you out?" Niall asks Louis, who’s still lagging behind with him.

“Nearly everything I had left." Louis makes a face. “It’s fine, Liam’ll spot me.”

“He’d donate an organ to you if you asked, more like." Niall laughs when Louis rolls his eyes.

“I’m gonna get another drink, wanna come?" Louis smirks when Niall nods. “Don’t forget to let your other half know.”

“Yeah, that’s only fair." Niall nods. “Hey, you’re gonna tell Liam, right?”

“For fuck’s sake." Louis turns, Niall following him off the busy floor. He’ll catch up with Harry later. 

**

Two drinks later, Niall’s on a deck chair with a third balanced on his chest, staring up at the stars. It’s clearer here; he can see everything.

“It’s easy to miss this,” he says, turning his head to where Louis is sprawled out in the chair next to him, “when you don’t have windows.”

“It’s fucking weird, right?" Louis doesn’t look away from the sky. “Feels claustrophobic as shit, it’s good Zayn and I haven’t seen each other much.”

“Where did he sleep last night?" Niall hadn’t been that surprised that Louis sexiled Zayn the night before when he’d heard about it at dinner, but he’s pretty surprised that hasn’t caused World War Million of the year, or whatever number they’re on.

Louis laughs. “Probably in one of these bad boys. Don’t know, really. Don’t care.”

“Gonna see her again tonight?" Niall hadn’t gotten many details, just that she’s Dutch and on the cruise with a bunch of her friends. 

“Since I’m seeing your ugly face right now and it’s like one in the morning, I think no." Louis squints over at him. “It was just a great night, you know?”

“Yeah,” Niall doesn’t think about Harry, “I know.”

“And to be honest, if I can make it so that Zayn had an uncomfortable night, well,” Louis laughs softly, “I’m not a perfect person.”

“Whaaaaat?" Niall feels sluggish, hopes he’s not coming off as a dick. “You?”

“Fuck off." Louis’s voice has no heat in it. “I know.”

Niall runs his finger nervously around the top of his glass. “It’s not too bad. You, I mean. Not it.”

“I’m like, aware, you know?" Louis takes a deep breath, pausing long enough that Niall wishes he had eight more drinks on hand. “How I’ve been.”

“It’s --”

“Don’t say it’s fine, please." Louis coughs, taking a sip of his drink. Niall can hear the ice clinking around. “You’re better than that.”

“It’s been a shitty year." Niall allows, Louis laughing this time.

“Understatement of the century." Louis must be shifting, his chair creaking loudly in the silence. “I’m not counting now as the year, though. Told my mom I’d start new, you know? Over Christmas.”

“Oh." They’ve all always made fun of Louis, how he is with his mom -- a total piece of shit mama’s boy through and through. Niall knows, though, how much it means to Louis. Him walking her down the aisle last summer was the closest Niall’s come to crying in a church over something other than Greg squeezing the fuck out of his hand. 

“As you’ll recall, I did really well with it in Florida." 

“Louis,” Niall wants to tell him to stop, wants to say don’t, this trip has been so great. Wants to tell him not to fuck things up with Harry again. But it’s warm and he’s drunk and it’s been a long time since he’s heard Louis sound like this.

“I know you were pissed at me over the Zayn shit, but,” Louis is looking at Niall when he turns his head, staring right at him, “that wasn’t really it, was it?”

“I --” Niall takes three deep breaths. “Not all of it, no.”

“I just felt like it was fucking awful, you know? Everyone but me moving on and being happy and shit. I’m not saying I loved seeing Harry’s naked ass on top of you, but there were worse things going on in my head." Louis’s still looking at him, one of his hands draped over the edge of his chair like he’s reaching out to Niall or something. 

“That’s not what it was, though." Niall shakes his head when Louis makes a face. “No, like, the stuff with Harry and I...so much shit was going on, you know? You were a goddamn mess and it freaked us out. It was something to do that wasn’t...it wasn’t hard to deal with. It was just getting off. Just easy.”

“Gross." Louis groans and covers his eyes with his hand. “I don’t want to know how easy Harry is, please.”

“You’re the one who’s lived with him for years, are you blind and also deaf?”

Louis hums. “He was such a miserable sad sack after break. And I’ve seen that asshole sad before, let me tell you. Those times, though. He didn’t want me to hang around and cheer him up like those. Not this time.”

Niall wishes he didn’t get a weird ping of sick happiness in his brain at the thought of it. He had known Harry was just as shitty and miserable as he was, but to hear it…

“I’m sorry, you know?" Louis is back to looking up at the sky when Niall turns his head again. “I can’t say I’d do it all different, but it’s done now and I’m trying. It’s not like…”

Louis trails off for a long time, Niall about to look over again and see if he’s fallen asleep when he continues.

“It’s not unnoticed. Or not appreciated.”

“You know how I know you’re drunk?” Niall asks, because he knows Louis will appreciate this more.

“How?”

“Because you’re getting all emotional like your best friend Liam.”

“Fuck." Louis starts laughing. “You _are_ an asshole. Never let anyone change you.”

“Anytime." Niall takes another sip of his drink, closing his eyes.

“It’s all gonna be different tomorrow." Louis’s speaking quietly; Niall can barely hear him.

“After Liam?” Niall knows he doesn’t need to say anything more. He can practically hear Louis nodding next to him.

“Yeah.” Louis exhales. “Fuck. Engaged.”

“To be honest,” Niall reaches down with his glass to set it on the deck, “I think everything’s already different now. It’s just picking which way it’s going to go, like. Sort of like --”

“Niall Horan, if you start talking about meteorology right now, I swear to God.”

“I wasn’t." Niall lies, reaching over to poke at Louis’s arm. “Fuck off.”

“You fuck off." Louis smiles. “We should just sleep here. ‘m tired.”

“And give Zayn the satisfaction?”

“Oh shit." Louis rolls over until his legs are half off the chair. “You’re right. C’mon, give me a hand.”

“Christ, what would you do without me?" Niall stands up, feeling wobbly as he holds out his hand for Louis.

**

Niall has no idea what time it is when he wakes up, just that it’s an actual miracle that he doesn’t really feel hungover. He vaguely remembers stumbling into the room and finding Harry passed out on the bed with the lights on, his arms around the animal towel of the day, an elephant this time. He remembers a little better shaking Harry awake and making them each chug a bottle of water and some aspirin before stripping down and passing out with Harry pressing sloppy kisses to his neck. 

Harry’s still snoring lightly next to him, the room so dark that Niall can’t make his eyes adjust as he carefully gets out of bed and goes to the bathroom, taking a long piss and blinking to try and decide how much longer he could sleep for. He pauses in the dim light of the bathroom and brushes his teeth quickly, just in case Harry wakes up and wants to make out. Uses Harry’s mouthwash, too. The room feels even darker when he edges back into the room.

“Hey,” Harry’s sleepy voice comes out of the darkness, “you up?”

“Just went to the bathroom,” Niall shrugs even though he knows Harry can’t see him, climbing on the bed. Before he can land on top of Harry, he feels Harry roll away. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” When Harry flips on the light, Niall blinks, just catching Harry’s silhouette before he starts to close the door. Niall lies on the bed with his eyes closed, listening to Harry gargle.

“Sorry.” Harry leaves the light on in the bathroom when he comes out, leaving the door mostly closed. It’s just enough light that Niall can see Harry’s face; the crazy swirls of his bed head. “But someone made me drink a like, reservoir of water last night.”

“I’d apologize,” Niall rolls into Harry’s warmth when he slides back into bed, “but admit it, you’re feeling pretty good right now.”

“Mmmm." Harry tilts his head up, pressing his lips gently to just under Niall’s eye. It makes Niall blink, feels like an infinitely more intimate thing to do than sucking his cock. “Could feel better.”

“Are we declaring halftime over?" Niall keeps his voice light, doesn’t want Harry to think he’s pushing him even though the thought of being inside Harry again gives him a semi. He honestly doesn’t care, though. Whatever Harry’s up for. 

“Third quarter." Harry nods, reaching up to thread his fingers through Niall’s hair, tugging gently. He laughs at the sound Niall can’t help but make in the back of this throat. “Ready to…”

“What?" Niall can tell even in the very dim light how Harry’s trying not to laugh. Niall touches his thumb to Harry’s cheek, can feel the deep crease of his dimple there.

“Ready to capitalize on this momentum from the first half." Harry’s eyes are bright, even in the darkness. “Feeling good about turning this game around.”

“Oh my God, stop." Niall groans, changing pitch to something much deeper when Harry sucks the tip of Niall’s thumb into his mouth. “That was idiotic. A bridge too far, Harry.”

“Nah, it was great." Harry pulls back. “But seriously, I’m good.”

“I --” Niall starts, his hand drifting down Harry’s chest. Harry inhales sharply when Niall thumbs at his nipple. 

“Well, not _good_ good, but ah,” Harry presses his hand over Niall’s on his chest, his heart thudding steadily when he guides Niall’s thumb to do it again. “You get it.”

“I do." Niall takes a deep breath, feeling awkward when he says, “I want it to be like, better.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, rubbing his thumb over the back of Niall’s hand for a second before leaning forward and kissing him carefully, almost sweetly, for just long enough that Niall’s surprised when Harry’s licking into his mouth. He rolls on top of Niall, kissing him deeply until they both have to pull apart and catch their breath, their foreheads pressed together.

“It was fine." Harry huffs out a laugh, his finger tracing along Niall’s collarbone. “I mean, I was fine. It was…”

“Just." Niall slides his hand down between them to get a firm grip on Harry’s dick, jacking him a few times until he’s fully hard and leaking at the tip, Harry’s breath blowing forcefully across his lips. “Let me.”

“Okay." Harry says quickly, nodding and making their heads knock together. It makes Niall temporarily lose his grip on Harry’s cock as they try and readjust their position. “Whatever you want.”

“I want…” Niall thinks about it for a minute, Harry’s eyes on his face. He pushes at Harry’s shoulders until he’s on his back, spread out with Niall between his legs. 

Niall rests his hand on Harry’s thigh, feels how it’s shaking underneath his palm. He rubs at it for a moment until Harry relaxes, leaning forward and pressing a kiss on Harry’s abs, then his hip. 

“You want to tease me, cool." Harry’s voice is flat. Niall can see his dick twitch. 

“What if we like, can you sit up a bit?" Harry nods and does it immediately, already grabbing all the pillows and placing them behind his back until he’s propped up. He’s watching Niall and biting at his lip, and Niall sits there for a moment, feeling struck stupid as to what he wants next. He feels all jumbled up inside.

“Niall,” Harry finally says, tilting his chin up just enough that Niall knows what he wants, crawling up to kiss him again. 

They make out like that for a few minutes, Niall running his hands all over almost like he’s mapping Harry out. Harry keeps making these small, appreciative noises that ping right to Niall’s cock, which is so hard Niall has to stop for a moment and stroke himself slow a couple of times, just to take off the edge a bit. 

“Can blow you for a bit,” Harry mumbles into Niall’s ear, “wanna?”

“Nah, this is better,” Niall doesn’t want to come the second he gets in Harry, can tell from the restless way Harry’s moving his hips around as Niall sits up to kiss him again that Harry’s feeling a lot like he was the other night, anxious to get to the main event. 

He leans down, spitting on the head of Harry’s cock before sucking it into his mouth and tonguing at his slit. “ _Shit_ ,” is all Harry gets out before he’s got his hand buried in Niall’s hair, pulling just tight enough as Niall blows him. 

“Niall, I…” Harry’s breathing fast, his stomach tight and his legs kicked out. “You’re too good, fuck.”

“Where’s the lube?" Niall asks after he pulls off, wiping his mouth on Harry’s stomach. 

“Um, I think,” Harry lets go of Niall’s hair, pointing with a shaky hand, “I tossed it in my suitcase?”

“Okay. Hold on." Niall gets off the bed and flips open Harry’s case, spotting the lube and box of condoms shoved in the side. He grabs a couple of condoms and tosses them on the bed, hearing one hit Harry somewhere on his skin, Harry laughing a moment later.

“Bullseye." Harry’s lazily stroking himself when Niall stands with the lube in his hand, reaching over to crack the door open a little more. “Good, yeah." Harry nods. “I want to see your stupid face better.”

“How romantic." Niall cringes internally at how it sounds when he says it, but Harry just nods, a wide grin on his face when Niall gets back on the bed. 

“If I was a true romantic,” Harry says when Niall leans up to kiss his neck, popping the cap on the lube with his thumb, “we’d be fucking in nature. See how it made us express ourselves.”

“Harry,” Niall kisses him, pulling back to laugh, “are you English Majoring right now?”

“In a way,” Harry grins, “how we started our whole deal is really putting aside our reason, you know? Going fully with what our intuition tells us.”

“So our intuition told us to get off?" Niall thinks back to Halloween for a second, the couple of seconds right before Harry kissed him. It makes him squeeze the lube a little too hard. 

“Something like that. Although I’m being like, really loose with my interpretation right now. It’s more like.." Harry bites at his lip, rolling his eyes while Niall tries to keep his face even. “Shut the fuck up, aren’t you in the middle of something?”

“Trying to be." Niall kisses him again, urging Harry’s legs apart a little bit more when he circles his finger slowly around Harry’s hole, just easing in up to the first knuckle. Harry pulls away to breathe in hard, tipping his head back against the pillows.

“Um, oh my God." Harry exhales shakily, his body opening up more for Niall’s finger as he does. 

“This feel alright?" Niall can already tell it’s different than before, Harry more relaxed or something. It doesn’t take long before Harry’s dick is drooling precome when Niall thumbs at the tip.

“ _Fuck_." Harry nods frantically, bearing down like he wants to take Niall’s finger in deeper. “Yeah, it’s...Niall, you don’t even know. I think. Like. Another?”

“Are you sure?" Niall asks, drizzling more lube on his middle finger before starting to press that in too on the next thrust. “You’re taking it, like...it feels different?”

Harry laughs, sounding breathless. “Imagine how I feel right now.”

“Fuck." Niall crooks his fingers until Harry’s dick jerks in his other hand, Harry swearing a bunch of nonsense under his breath.

“Keep doing that." Harry’s thighs are shaking again, but Niall knows it’s for a different reason than before. He looks up when Harry makes a strangled noise. “Another.”

“Are you sure?" Niall stills his fingers, Harry’s hips spasming once. 

“Yes, fuck." Harry’s fingers twitch on Niall’s shoulder like he wants him to come up. Niall does after he uses a little more lube, letting go of Harry’s cock but keeping up the slow rhythm of his fingers, kissing Harry as he pushes in three slowly. 

“Okay?” Niall’s getting to a point where he’s so hard it’s distracting, especially the way Harry’s fucking down on his hand, but it’s even hotter, worth the never-ending wait, when Harry just nods with his pupils so blown out when he meets Niall’s eyes that Niall can’t even see any green. 

“I think, I…” Harry sits up a little, gasping on the angle change before he presses his lips to Niall’s neck, then his ear. “I’m ready, fuck. I don’t wanna come like this, wanna on…”

Fuck. “Okay, yeah, let me just." 

It takes a moment, the two of them laughing in the silence and trying to reorganize themselves. Harry shoves a couple pillows under his hips while Niall rolls on the condom and runs his lubed hand over his dick, settling so he’s braced over Harry a little better than before. 

“Don’t ask me,” Harry says when Niall opens his mouth, “just do it." He wraps his legs around Niall’s waist, drawing him in closer so the head of Niall’s dick slides against Harry’s slick entrance, not quite enough to go in. Fucking fuck.

Niall nods, gripping his dick and bracing his other hand on the bed, staring to press in as he kisses Harry. He goes slow, swallowing the soft noise Harry makes when the head of his cock pushes past the resistance, Harry biting at his lip when Harry’s body opens up for him, taking him slowly but surely. 

“Okay." Harry’s voice still sounds strained, but not nearly as much as before, his heels digging into Niall’s ass like he’s holding him there, dicked in deep. “Slow, yeah?”

It’s a little jerky at first, Niall nearly slipping all the way out the first few times, but it’s like they find it after that, Niall fucking in while Harry moves in counterpoint, urging him on with his legs wrapped around Niall. He’s still so tight, so fucking tight and hot and Niall’s really glad he didn’t let Harry blow him before. The extra pillow Harry’s shoved under himself must be doing something good, because it’s easier to kiss Harry this way, slow at first and then barely at all. Like they’re just breathing with their faces close together.

“Fuck, fuck.” Harry’s voice is barely there. “I’m close.”

“Shit, okay." Niall kisses him once before sitting back a little bit. He just means to do it so he can get his hand around Harry’s cock, but the movement must change the angle because Harry moans so loud it breaks in the middle, a spark shooting down Niall’s spine when he looks at Harry’s face, how Harry looks as he watches Niall. His eyes are too much to look at for too long.

“There. There." Harry’s mouth is moving like he’s saying more that Niall can’t hear. “There.”

Niall stays where he is even though it’s uncomfortable for his knee, thrusting steadily as Harry slowly loses his mind. Or fast, really, Niall wrapping his hand around Harry’s where he’s jerking himself off. He can feel Harry’s fingers tighten as a warning before he’s coming, his ass clenching so hard around Niall’s cock that he’s sure he blacks out for a second. 

“Holy shit, Niall." Harry sounds like an entirely different person, “Holy shit. Can you?”

He shifts and Niall’s right on the verge of coming as he pulls out, only distantly hearing Harry’s gasp as he does, can’t even get the condom off fully before he gets his hand around his dick. He comes half in the condom and half on Harry’s thigh with Harry’s nails digging into his shoulder.

Niall catches his breath, can hear Harry breathing like he needs his inhaler above him. Niall knows he needs to move and clean up, but it’s like his body has a mind of its own when he crawls up the bed instead to kiss Harry, relaxing into his mouth.

**

It’s quiet after they clean up, Harry lying on top of Niall as they crowd onto the one side of the bed. It’s nice. Niall runs his fingers in random patterns over Harry’s back, laughing when Harry jerks a little bit when his fingers dip down over his side.

“Fuck you,” Harry mumbles into Niall’s chest. “I’m ticklish.”

“Are you?" Niall does it again, yelping when Harry pinches his side. “I will shove you right over onto that side of the bed.”

“Nooooo." Harry goes still, flopping his arm down over Niall’s side. “Hey.”

“Hmmm?" Niall looks down at Harry, keeping his hand drawing circles between Harry’s shoulder blades. 

“That was great." Harry shifts around so he’s digging his chin into Niall’s chest, looking up at him. “Like…”

“Yeah." Niall’s voice breaks a little bit to even think about it. “Better than great. C’mon.”

“I’m,” Harry looks like he’s deciding what he’s about to say, opening and closing his mouth. Biting his lip.

“What?" Niall tugs at the end of Harry’s hair gently. “You were faking.”

“I haven’t been into you, you know?" Harry’s brow furrows before he continues, Niall feeling like his blood’s run cold. “For like, the last four years.”

“Um. Thanks?" Niall rests his palm flat on Harry’s back, doesn’t move it. 

“No, no." Harry’s eyes go wide. “Fuck, I’m saying this wrong. Fuck. No.”

“What are you trying to say?" Niall’s not freaking out, not just yet. But he could.

“I’m into you now,” Harry says quickly, “so much? It’s fucking embarrassing.”

Niall exhales involuntarily, this relieved sound that seems like it fills up the whole room.

Harry grins wide. “Sorry,” he says, softly. 

“What else were you trying to say?" Niall’s going to make him sit for a minute; it’ll give Niall more time to sort out his own thoughts. 

“This isn’t a thing where like, I was into you for years? Writing about you in my journal since freshman year.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you sleep in my room in Boston." Niall raises his eyebrows like _who, me?_ when Harry gives him a look.

“Niall, I’m trying here,” he laughs. “Like, I’m being serious right now.”

“Sorry.” Niall really is. His neck is starting to hurt a little bit from looking down at Harry. “Can we move a little?”

“Sure." Harry responds to Niall’s hands when he pushes him until they’re both on their sides facing each other. “Like this?”

“Yeah. Or..." Niall feels hesitant when he reaches out between them, running his fingertips down Harry’s forearm until their fingers are intertwined. It feels weird. It feels good.

Harry looks down, and Niall can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Okay. Like this.”

“I never thought a lot of stuff that’s happened this year would have happened,” Harry looks up, meeting Niall’s eyes, “but like, in the realm of possibility, Zayn dipping would have been more likely than this. Us.”

“That’s a fair assessment." Niall snorts. “I mean, I wasn’t planning a long game for a hookup with you.”

“It’s like...it’s been a miserable year, and this made it more palatable." Harry’s mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile.

“That’s a great word." Niall stops when Harry gives him a look. “I know, I know. It’s true, though. A real bright light in a lot of terrible stuff.”

“When we called it off, after…” Harry trails off, looking down again. He shrugs, the movement making his hand move in Niall’s grip. “Well, you know. I was in such a bad mood, all the time. I barely went outside the rest of break, just read Hemingway’s entire catalog and listened to our playlist.”

“Oh, my parents were certain I was in a full spiral over the loss." Niall takes a deep breath. “I was, just not…”

“Yeah,” Harry whispers. “But they were hurt, I just wanted it to be okay.”

“It backfired a little bit." Niall thinks about Louis the night before. “Think things are good now. With everyone. With Louis.”

“I was a total shit to him." Harry frowns, squeezing at Niall’s hand. “For a while. It wasn’t entirely fair.”

“Think he handled it okay." Niall can tell that Harry’s in his head about it, and he leans forward to kiss him softly. 

“Thanks,” mumbles Harry against his lips. “Either way. It wasn’t like, I don’t know. I don’t want to stop this.”

“I didn’t think we were." Niall says honestly, realizing he means it. “If we don’t want to and things with everyone are okay?”

“Yeah, but I mean like,” Harry closes his eyes, exhaling. “I feel so fucking dumb right now.”

“Why?" Niall holds his breath.

“I don’t want to be sneaking around and getting off just to release tension. I want to be more than just that." Harry opens one eye, then the other, squinting like he’s not sure what Niall will say.

“Shit." Niall knows what Harry’s saying, what he’s asking. It’s a weird weight being lifted off his chest that he didn’t even know was fucking there at all. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Good." Harry moves so he’s back on top of Niall, sprawled out and pressing him down into the bed. “I think we should nap and then maybe blow each other and then find the others.”

Niall laughs. “I’m so fucking into you, Harry.”

“There we go,” Harry says into his chest. “I knew it.”

**

“Wait, fucking what?" Louis kicks Zayn from where he’s laid out on the deck chair, cradling one of the bottles of champagne they’d managed to get from the girl bartending. Well. Harry had managed, anyway. 

“Thought I’d mentioned,” Zayn shrugs, Harry shooting Niall a what the fuck face from his end of the chair. They’re not touching, but it’s close enough that Niall can feel how warm Harry is. It’s late out on the deck, a little breeze that’s enough to make Niall remember what cool air feels like. 

“Zayn, I think we’d remember.” Niall sets his own champagne down on the deck. He’d only gotten the text from Liam that he and Sophia were on their way to the spot he’d picked like fifteen minutes before, so he doesn’t think they’ll need it just yet. 

And Zayn’s going to Thailand.

“I know for _sure_ I’d remember if you’d mentioned you were fucking off to Thailand before we’re even done this year." Louis has a weird tone to his voice, one that Niall hopes Zayn doesn’t notice. Things with him have been fine on the cruise, but it’s not even like they were all going to be hanging out all the time for the rest of the year. Niall doesn’t even know how to really define their friendship with Zayn. After everything. 

“The Peace Corps,” Zayn sounds like maybe he’s noticed it too, his voice too even. He’s not even mumbling. “The Peace Corps is not ‘fucking off.’”

“What are you going to be doing there?" Harry asks, and Niall nudges him with his foot as a thanks.

“Agriculture stuff, like teaching it in some of the programs." Zayn leans back, reaching over to ruffle Louis’s hair. Louis ducks out of the way. “Community building, I guess.”

“So you’re going to Thailand." Louis sounds more like himself again. “To grow stuff.”

Zayn laughs. “Fuck off, Lou.”

“You fuck off.”

“How long does that even take?" Niall suddenly wonders how long Zayn’s been going at this, hopes to fuck that it didn’t coincide with his first ghosting last summer. “To get into the Peace Corps, I mean.”

“It’s been like, I don’t know,” Zayn rubs his hands over his hair for a second. “A few months? I started it like, in the fall. October.”

“That’s really cool,” Harry smiles at Zayn before his eyes cut over to Louis. Niall nudges him with his foot again. “It sounds cool. Like. I don’t know, if you really want to reach out, and like…”

He’s rambling, and Niall decides to put him out of his misery since Louis’s too busy grinning like he’s delighted. 

“It sounds awesome, and I’ll probably hate your ass the second winter hits and you’re sweating your balls off in Bangkok." Niall smiles at Zayn, and Zayn smiles back. 

“It’s not actually in Bangkok, but,” Zayn’s smile turns into a grin, “I’m sure I’ll make a visit or two.”

“There we go." Louis starts laughing when Harry reaches over to punch his thigh. “What? Look at his face, I’m just commenting on what I’m seeing.”

“Still." Harry looks over at Niall. Niall shrugs. Zayn is still laughing, stopping only to take a swig of his drink, so he doesn’t think everything’s about to go to shit. 

“How did your mom take you not walking?" Louis asks next, surprising Niall. And Harry, too, judging from the look on his face. If Niall closed his eyes, the tone and content of Louis’s question could mean it was a year ago and nothing had ever happened. 

“Oh, um." Zayn sounds like he wasn’t expecting it, either. “She wasn’t that happy at first, even though I told her that bringing peace to Thailand is more important than some ceremonial bullshit --”

“Is Thailand at war?” Harry whispers to Niall, Niall snickering and shrugging when Zayn shoots them a look. 

“Harry,” Louis rolls his eyes, although Niall can tell he’s trying not to laugh.

“ANYWAY,” Zayn says loudly, “it’s fine now, I just had to agree to a backyard ceremony for the fam before I leave.”

“A backyard ceremony?” Louis’s voice sounds very careful.

“Yeah, for like, pictures and shit." Zayn rolls his eyes. “I had to promise I’d do it otherwise she was calling me every day crying.”

“She’ll definitely appreciate that,” Harry’s eyes are wide. “You _are_ her s-o-n shine.”

Niall starts laughing, can’t help himself. The day they’d all realized from a Facebook post that Mrs. Malik’s nickname for her son was spelled a certain way had been great. For all of them. Not really for Zayn. Not that Louis “Boo Bear” Tomlinson had any legs to stand on. He still tried, though.

Zayn’s laughing too, though, and not the kind where Niall knows he’s faking. At least, he doesn’t think so.

“Harold, you are being a little shit." Louis sounds like a proud parent. “And Zayn, please tell your mother to put every single picture on every social media platform available.”

“Fuck you.” Zayn shakes his head, looking like he’s about to say more when he sits up, looking over Niall’s head. “Think I see Li.”

“Oh shit,” Louis sits up, scrambling around for the champagne, “I wanted to pop this as soon as they’re close enough. Zayn, get yours.”

Niall’s struggling to unwrap the foil from his when Harry says suddenly, “ _Guys,_ guys stop.”

“What --” Niall looks up, seeing what Harry’s seeing. It’s like everyone deflates. 

Liam’s alone, for a start. Approaching them slowly enough that it takes Niall a moment to really see in the moonlight that he’s crying, walking with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Oh, shit." Zayn sounds nervous. “I don’t….”

“Fuck,” Louis’s already on his feet, squeezing at Niall’s shoulder as he passes when Niall starts to stand. Niall sits there, feeling shitty and helpless as he watches them finally meet up a few feet away, Louis opening his arms immediately to guide Liam into a hug. 

“Shit.” Zayn says again. Niall doesn’t look at him, puts his arm around Harry carefully when Harry sits up and scoots a little closer.

“I didn’t think that,” Harry says quietly, turning his head and meeting Niall’s eyes.

“I know,” Niall rubs at Harry’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s…”

“Don’t think so, Niall." Zayn’s voice sounds flat. “He’s crying.”

“I wonder where Soph is,” it hits Niall suddenly, as he watches Louis rock Liam back and forth. “I want to go check if she…”

“God, yeah." Harry bites his lip, “I can come, or...no, you should just go.”

“Yeah." Niall nods, standing up and approaching Liam and Louis hesitantly. It feels weird, like it’s not happening because it’s nothing Niall had ever even considered. Although maybe he should be used to that shit by now.

“Niall,” Liam’s voice is muffled by Louis’s shoulder, and he pulls away only to reel Niall in, sounding shaky. 

“Are you okay?" Niall knows it’s a stupid question, but he asks it anyway.

“She turned me down,” Liam’s voice sounds awful. “Before I even got on my knee.”

“Where is she?" Niall asks, Louis frowning at him, an unreadable expression on his face. Niall shakes his head. “I wanna go check on her.”

“Um, on the other side, the place I told you about?" Liam pulls back, exhaling a shuddery breath. “Yeah, Niall, can you go see her?”

“We’ve got this, Li." Louis says firmly, and Niall looks over to where Harry and Zayn are watching them with wide eyes. “It’ll be fine.”

**

It feels like he wanders around forever. Niall’s about to try and call Sophia and see where she is, if she’s already back at the room, when he spots her. She’s sitting on a quiet part of the deck that’s shadowed, her head bent down. Niall clutches his fists to steel himself as he approaches her.

“Soph?" Niall feels awful when she finally looks up, her eye makeup smudged and her face red. 

“Niall, I --” is all she gets out before she starts crying, these soft sobs that are hard to watch. Niall sits down next to her on the lounge chair, pulling her into a hug. He just lets her cry, rubbing at her back while she gets what feels like the entire front of his tank top wet. 

“What…” Niall pauses, unsure if he should ask, “what _happened_?" 

“Did you know?" Sophia asks, her voice sounding thick. She pulls back to sit up, wiping at her eyes carefully. “That he was proposing?”

“Yeah." Niall nods. “I thought it was a good idea? I uh, helped him. With the ring.”

Sophia’s eyes close. “Oh, God,” she says.

“It’s not a good idea? Are you like...with Liam?" Niall doesn’t know how to ask it, if she’s done with Liam. Niall can’t wrap his head around it. 

“No!” Sophia’s eyes fly open. “I love him, you know that Niall.”

“Yeah, and he’s stupid for you." Niall smiles, hoping Sophia will smile back. She does, and it looks so sad that it fucking hurts. Jesus.

“I know, I…” Sophia leans into Niall again, and he rubs her arm. “It’s just….we’re twenty-two years old, Niall. I can’t...I want us to have time, is all. We don’t even know what’s going to happen in a few months.”

“I get it." Niall does, it dawning on him fully. What probably happened. “So you two didn’t break up?”

“No, I just said,” Sophia hiccups, sounding miserable, “that it wasn’t a no, it was a not right now. It can be in the plans, but not a thing we’re planning?”

“Liam didn’t…” Niall starts, Sophia leaning into him even more.

“He was so upset.” Sophia’s speaking so quietly Niall has to strain to hear her. “He said that it felt like I was breaking up with him. I couldn’t make him understand.”

“He loves you so much,” Niall pulls her closer. “He might just need time to figure it out, too.”

“I didn’t want this,” Sophia sounds so wrecked, “everything was finally good with everyone. Liam was happy.”

“He’ll be happy again.” Niall reassures her, believing it more than anything he’s ever said. “If I’ve learned anything from this shitshow of a year, that’s it.”

“He said he was gonna sleep on the deck tonight,” Sophia sniffles, “he can’t do that. Can I stay? With you and Harry?”

“Of course." Niall thinks frantically of how he and Harry left the room, if Harry shoved the condoms and lube back in his suitcase. The bed is still converted, he realizes. 

Oh, fuck it. Sophia’s so miserable that Niall can’t think about stupid shit like that.

“Here,” Niall reaches into his pocket, “take my card and go ahead, I’m gonna go check on the others.”

“Thanks, Ni." Sophia sits up, smiling sadly at him. Niall nods, kissing her cheek before he stands up. 

**

It’s quiet when he gets back, the four of them deep in the champagne. Niall gives himself a pep talk as he approaches, unsure what to say to not make it worse.

“Liam,” Niall sits down, Harry scooting over to make room for him. It’s nice, feeling Harry’s solid weight next to him.

“Is she okay?" Liam’s eyes are swollen and his face is flushed. Niall watches him take a drink of champagne.

“She’s pretty upset, um,” Niall takes a deep breath, “but she didn’t say...she didn’t say _no_ , Liam. She just said not yet.”

“What?" Harry whispers next to him, Zayn coughing on Harry’s other side.

“She didn’t say…” Louis trails off, and Niall looks up to see him turn his head to look at Liam. 

“She just told me that, Liam." Niall tries to keep his voice gentle. “She didn’t say no.”

“It’s the same thing, isn’t it?" Liam holds out his arms, shaking his head. “It’s the same fucking thing.”

Louis makes a noise that’s so loud all of them turn their heads. 

“Really?" Louis sounds like he’s not himself, “Because I’ve gotten the no before, and I’m pretty sure it’s fucking different.”

“What are you talking about?" Harry’s voice is loud. “Louis, what are you talking about?”

Louis shrugs. “What, do you think El and I broke up for no good reason? You can’t come back from a flat out no. Believe me, we tried.”

It’s like there’s no more air to breathe for a second. No one had ever said, never asked Louis outright what happened. It was just a headline one day. They all saw the two of them, Maid of Honor and Best Man, at Louis’s mom’s wedding. And then it was just done. And Louis was a goddamn mess.

“You didn’t say, Lou." Liam’s turned to face Louis, like they’re not all sitting there together. “You didn’t say.”

“I didn’t want to say,” Louis grimaces. “I don’t want to say now, but at least it doesn’t feel so much like I’m fucking stabbing myself after everything.

“I got carried away, is all, with the wedding. With the three fucking years. It was a no, Liam. It was a please understand. It was a month of pretending things were fine before we gave up. She never…”

Louis stops for a second, laughing like he’s surprised before he continues, “She never said not yet.”

“Louis,” Harry whispers, at the same time Niall says, “Fuck.”

“Lou, fuck." Zayn shakes his head. “I’m --”

“Yeah, well." Louis waves his hand around in front of his face like he’s shooing something away. “I’m not bringing it up now for a therapy session and circle jerk, I just want Liam to know that shit’s different.”

“I guess." Liam puts his arm around Louis. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh my _GOD_ do not apologize." Louis shakes his head, “Just don’t take too long to work it out. It’s Sophia, Liam.”

“She’s staying in Harry and I’s room tonight,” Niall says, giving Harry a look of apology. Harry shrugs, nodding and smiling. “So you can both get your heads together before we head back tomorrow.”

“Want me to bunk in with you?" Louis asks Liam. “It’ll be Zayn’s lucky day.”

“I could --” Zayn starts awkwardly, and Niall shoots him a grateful look even though Louis is what Liam needs.

“Nah, I’ve got it." Louis reaches for the last unopened bottle of champagne. “C’mon, leave no man behind guys. Let’s not waste our last night.”

**

“Liam?” Niall knocks on his door tentatively. It’s the first time since they got back that he can’t hear Drake through the walls. They’ve lived together long enough that he knows that doesn’t mean anything, but he’s hoping. “I made dinner, if you want some.”

Silence. 

“Okay, I didn’t make it, but I got KFC.” He’d had to come home, get the keys, and then drive to East Bumfuck just to pick it up. Honestly, if Liam doesn’t come out of his room for this, he’s gonna… Niall doesn’t even know what. Feel gross after eating an entire bucket of fried chicken, probably. “Liiiiiiam.”

Halfway through his insistent knocking, Liam opens the door. He’s got his headphones around his neck and his hair’s a mess. At least this time he doesn’t look like he’s been crying or anything. Niall doesn’t know what he’d do; probably call Louis or Harry. Or both. 

“Sorry,” Liam says, “I didn’t hear you.”

Niall shrugs. “I figured. I got KFC, if you’re hungry.”

Liam acts like it’s a huge difficulty, eating. He keeps sighing and staring sadly at his chicken like he can’t decide if he actually wants another bite. 

“Thanks for getting this,” he says eventually.

“No problem.” Niall slouches lower on the futon, trying to grab the remote off the coffee table with his feet. It takes some acrobatics; he can’t help but think how easy it would’ve been for Harry and his stupid bendy legs. A fucking human Gumby. “Wanna watch basketball?”

Liam sighs heavily. “No.”

Niall flips through the channels. “Duck Dynasty?”

“No.” He shoots down fifteen straight suggestions before Niall stops asking and just leaves it on House Hunters International. Liam doesn’t seem to care. 

Niall claps him on the leg and says, “Fuck this, I’m getting a beer. You in?”

Liam gives him a look. Niall nods. Obviously. It’s… he doesn’t know if this kind of wallowing is better than how Louis had been, stumbling home at six in the morning. Though that phase is probably just around the corner if Louis has anything to say about it. 

_Staying in tonight_ he texts Harry while he’s in the kitchen.

_Give him a hug for me_  
_A long one_  
_At least 45 seconds, Niall_

He snorts. _I’m not doing that_

The row of angry faces comes through just as he’s handing Liam his beer. 

“Harry says I should give you a hug. I guess since he didn’t get a chance to see you today.” He rolls his eyes as he says it, but Liam just looks so fucking sad. Niall wants to shake him, remind him of Louis and how much worse it could actually be. 

He ends up hugging him instead because he was there when Liam bought the fucking ring and he knows it’s sitting somewhere in his room right now. It’s shorter than Harry would probably think necessary, but whatever. 

“Um.” He narrows his eyes at the TV. No one’s complaining that they can’t find beach house in Maui for under thirty thousand dollars. “Did you change the channel? Is this… is that Mariah Carey?”

“Maybe,” Liam says. “I don’t know, the other guy was just annoying me so I changed it and this was on. It’s not bad, though.”

Niall keeps expecting Liam to fall asleep or leave or something, but the two of them sit there through the whole movie, only getting up for more beers. 

**

“You’re telling me you honestly watched all of _Glitter_?” Harry makes a shocked face, his mouth a perfectly round O. Niall wants to tell him to suck a dick, but they’re in public and he’s afraid it’d sound more like an invitation than anything. He’s got class in twenty minutes.

“Shut the fuck up,” he says instead, kicking Harry’s chair under the table. “Like you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“Of course I would.” Harry stops typing. “Want me to come over tonight? Me and Lou can bring like --”

“So help me god if you say _The Notebook_.”

“You know what?” Harry stares at him over his laptop. Niall raises his eyebrows, waiting. 

“What?”

“Nothing, I don’t know. Shut up.”

Niall laughs loud enough to get them shushed, but whatever. This isn’t the fucking library. 

Harry goes back to his typing. Niall’s got his bag with him and he probably should use this time to like, study or something, but he checks Instagram instead, rolling his eyes at the picture Harry’d posted before Niall got here, one of hideous paintings that’s hanging on the wall of the study lounge. It’s in fucking black and white. So far, Zayn’s the only person who’s liked it. Niall scrolls past. He refuses to encourage it.

His email’s mostly spam, and Niall cleans those out before reading the one from his boss at the internship. 

“What?” Harry nudges his foot under the table. “You look weird. Did Liam post, oh god, did he post another selfie? You said he was going to class!”

“No, it’s fine, it’s just…” He swallows. This isn’t anything, he doesn’t know why he’s freaking out about it. “They want to do a like, performance review at work? Next week? My boss said not to panic. Like, he literally wrote, ‘Don’t panic. You’re doing good work and we love having you around.’”

“That’s good right?” 

“I… think so?” It seems good, but like, it could go any way. We love having you around doesn’t necessarily mean we want to keep you around forever. Or maybe they say it to everyone, Niall doesn’t know. “I hope so.”

“Hey.” When Niall looks up, Harry’s right there, hands planted on the table so he can stretch all the way into Niall’s space. “Don’t freak out. He told you not to.”

“Yeah.” Niall nods. “I know. I just --”

“I know.” Harry hesitates for a moment and then leans forward, pressing a quick kiss to Niall’s lips. They haven’t seen each other much since they’ve been home and it’s still kind of a shock to Niall that they’re doing this again, for real. Enough so that it derails his thoughts. Which, judging by Harry’s smile, was his plan all along. “It’ll be fine.”

He drops back into his seat, going right back to his paper. Niall wonders what he’d say if he suggested they skip class this afternoon. Probably no; Harry’s classes are all weirdly small ones where people notice if he’s not there.

“You want to come over later?” he asks, tapping his toes on Harry’s foot for attention. “Liam should be at work until six.”

“I have a group project meeting.” Harry frowns. “But in my heart I want to.”

Niall raises his eyebrows. “Just your heart?”

“Shut up, we have a presentation on Friday so I can’t skip it. Don’t make that face at me!”

“What face? This is my regular face.”

Harry narrows his eyes. Niall wiggles his eyebrows until Harry starts laughing. “Oh my god, go to class.”

He reaches for his headphones, not waiting for Niall to leave before turning his music back on. Niall slides his hand over Harry’s head as he goes past, tugging on the ends of his hair. “See you later, Styles,” he says, even though Harry probably can’t even hear him.

**

As much as Niall knows he shouldn’t worry, he still does. And not just about whether or not he’ll get a job offer, but what happens if he does? Where would he want to go if they offered him his pick? Home? Here? It’d be nice to be near his friends -- nicer still to be near Harry, but California is so far. If that’s even where Harry ends up. Everyone’s futures are so murky right now, who knows where they’re all going to be next year. Or where the fuck they’ll be in four months.

“You okay?” Sophia pokes him in the side gently. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to zone out. I guess I’m not much good to you today.” He’d come over after work, feeling bad that he hasn’t seen her in a few days. It’s strange, seeing both sides of the situation. He doesn’t feel caught in the middle, but it’s weird, worrying about both of them equally. Having to sort out his time so he can see them. Fuck, he’d thought they’d been done splintering into factions, but no. 

Sophia stirs the ice cream that’s melting between them. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he starts, but she cuts him off with, “I could use the distraction.”

“It’s just, you know.” Niall sighs heavily, trying to think about what he wants to say. It’s all weighing on his mind so equally he doesn’t really know where to start. Doesn’t know how to phrase it without dredging up all the shit going on between her and Liam. “Don’t laugh, but like, I think they’re going to offer me a job? And I’m freaking the fuck out about it.”

“Are your diamond shoes too tight, too?”

“Shut up.” He nudges her with his shoulder and reaches for the ice cream, eating a spoonful. “But like --”

“No, I get it. I applied for a job at that place I interned at over the summer and they called me for an interview and I can’t stop worrying about what would happen if I actually get it. I’d have to move and like, find an apartment and a roommate and what about Liam? What’s he going to do? Should I ask him to come with me? Do I even have the right to do that, after everything?”

“Oh, Soph.” Niall wraps his arm around her shoulder as she takes a big, shuddery breath. 

“It’s so stupid, right? I haven’t even had the dumb interview yet.”

“It’s a little stupid,” he says. They’re all being idiots. “But I’m doing the same thing, so. We’re all in this together.”

She chuckles. “DId Liam make you watch that last night, too?”

“Watch what?”

“Nothing.” She sits up, taking the ice cream container and setting it on the coffee table. “Definitely not _High School Musical_.”

Niall bursts out laughing. These two and their love of dumb movies; he knows it’s not his place to say, but he really hopes they sort their shit out soon.

**

“I just think it would help!” Louis is shouting over the music, his mouth right by Liam’s ear. That seems unnecessary, since Niall can hear him across the table. “Tequila always helps!”

They’d dragged Liam out, all four of them. Louis had been the one to storm in and actually manhandle Liam into the cab, claiming, “You can’t sit at home on a Friday night, Payne. As your best friend, I won’t allow it.”

It had seemed like a good plan in theory, but in practice they’re just stuck with mopey Liam at a bar. 

“This sucks,” Niall says as Louis tries to cajole Liam into a game of darts. Or pool. Or beer pong. He’s literally listing a million things while Liam slumps lower in his seat. It’s disconcerting, watching him bend over backwards to be nice. “I really thought this would’ve helped. Or at least, like, distracted him for a little bit.”

“Yeah.” Under the table, Harry rests his hand on Niall’s knee. Only for a second though. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Where’s he going?” Liam watches Harry walk away. Niall shrugs.

“I could put twenty bucks in the jukebox and request whatever song you want a hundred times in a row?” Louis offers. “Watch people go insane.”

“I don’t think it’d be a hundred times,” Liam says, drawing shapes in the condensation on their table. 

“Oh, excuse me, good Will Hunting, I didn’t realize you were a math genius now.” Louis rolls his eyes and somehow _that_ gets a smile out of Liam.

“Ummm,” Harry says, Niall reaching up to catch the stack of cups right before they slip out of his arms. “Thanks. I didn’t think we’d want to drink out of them once they’d hit the floor.”

“Eh.” Niall’s done worse. They all have. He’s probably too sober to drink from them now, but… who’s to say what happens in the future. 

Harry stares at him a minute, looking grossed out and like he’s vaguely regretting letting Niall put his mouth on so many of his body parts. 

“What’s this?” Louis makes a face as Harry starts pouring beers into cups, arranging them in the center of the table. 

“Remember that time freshman year when Ruth came to visit? In the spring, not for football? And taught us that game --”

“Oh my god,” Liam says. “Didn’t Louis throw up out your dorm window?”

“I --”

“YOU DID,” Liam’s full-on grinning now, pointing at Louis and laughing harder than Niall’s seen him in days. “And you kicked Zayn in the side trying to get to the window and he had a bruise for a _week_ , kept saying you broke his rib!” 

“I didn’t,” Louis says, as if that argument’s still on the table. It’s not like Zayn’s here to cry about it; he’s been mostly ghost since they landed back on campus. Niall’s not sad about it, probably because they’d all been expecting it to happen. Just because things are better doesn’t mean they’re ever going to be like they were. This is the new normal, the four of them.

“Well.” Harry spreads his hands over the table, eyebrows up, dimples on full display. “This is that game Ruth taught us.”

Niall reaches for the quarter Harry’s set on the table. “Five bucks Louis pukes before the night’s over.”

“Fuck you, Horan. I’ll do no such thing.”

Liam fishes out his wallet. “I say he does.”

Harry watches everyone counting money and slumps in his seat like he’s just realizing Louis puking will end especially poorly for him. “I…. may have some regrets.”

**

“Did you order a pizza?” Niall yells to Liam. 

“WHAT?” Liam yells back. Niall sighs and goes to answer the door. He knows he does a shitty job of hiding his shock when he sees it’s Sophia. “Hi.”

“Hey. I was hoping --”

“Sophia?” 

Niall hadn’t even heard Liam come downstairs. He feels like he’s moving in slow motion when he turns, not sure if he wants to see whatever look is on Liam’s face. It’s a lot of different things at once. 

“Hi,” Sophia says. She takes a deliberate step forward and Niall feels bad that he’s just been standing there like an idiot instead of inviting her in. Or… saying anything at all. Jesus, what is wrong with him. “Can we -- I think we should talk.”

“Now?” Liam’s voice is high and thin. He sounds terrified. Sophia must realize it, too -- how couldn’t she -- because she closes the gap between them and sets her hand on his arm. It’s the smallest fucking thing, but Liam visibly relaxes. 

“I’m gonna…” Niall doesn’t think either of them are paying attention to him. He reaches for his fleece, relieved that his keys and wallet are still in the pocket; he’d hate to have to duck past them to go back to his room.

 _U home?_ he texts Harry, hoping he is because otherwise Niall’s gonna have to like, fuck around in the computer lab for a gross amount of time.

_Yeah. You want to come over?_

Niall sends back a thumbs up emoji. He makes himself walk at a normal pace.

**

“So wait, Sophia just showed up? That’s good, right?”

“Harry, seriously?” Niall’s already got his shirt off, has since he walked in and Harry, who was only wearing shorts at the time, said, “Louis is at the library.” 

“They’re our friends,” Harry says, rubbing at the red mark developing on his neck. “I can’t help it if I’m concerned.”

“Yeah, she just showed up. It’s good. Now can we focus on other things, like how _I_ just showed up?”

Harry bites his lip, considering. The way he blatantly checks Niall out makes Niall go red, his pulse beating heavy in his ears. It feels like they’ve been back from break for a thousand years; they haven’t hooked up for a thousand and one. 

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Harry says. “Don’t know when Lou’ll be back.”

“Okay, well, like,” Niall curls his fingers into the waistband of Harry’s shorts, “lock your fucking door and we’ll make it quick.”

He’s pissed at Louis, distantly, because Niall’d gotten used to having all the time in the world when they were on the cruise. Not that he’s complaining about Harry blowing him right up against the door, going about it like there’s a fucking timer and a prize at the end of it. But still. He misses that stupid converted king. 

At least, he misses it until Harry stops, sitting back on his heels, pulling against Niall’s hands in his hair.

“Fuck, why’d you stop?” Niall strains to listen for weird noises but it doesn’t sound like Louis is home. Harry licks his lips and Niall pushes forward, his cock sliding over Harry’s mouth and cheek. He does it again, hoping Harry’ll open his damn mouth this time. He doesn’t. “What the fuck, Harry?”

“I was, uh,” Harry pauses to cough, his hand moving agonizingly slowly over Niall’s dick, these short, torturous strokes that don’t do anything except remind Niall of what he had minutes ago, “was gonna see if I could find lube.”

“Jesus.” Niall covers Harry’s hand with his own, stopping his motion and squeezing, hard, so he doesn’t come immediately. “You can’t _say_ stuff like that.”

“Why not?” The look on Harry’s face is pure evil. “I thought that was the point.”

“Getting off before your stupid roommate gets back is the point,” Niall says through gritted teeth. He guides his cock back to Harry’s mouth, nudging his lips until Harry parts them. Niall lets his head fall back against the door. “Finally. Thank you.”

If it’s weird that Harry humming “you’re welcome” is what makes him lose it, well. Whatever. 

**

“You’ve got a little.” Harry motions at his mouth, Niall wiping at his own until Harry sighs and says, “Here.” He swipes his thumb over Niall’s jaw, looking at his finger for a moment before wiping it on Niall’s shirt.

“Nice,” Niall says sarcastically. “Real discreet.”

“Are we…” Harry sits on his bed heavily, the whole mattress bouncing. “Are we trying to be discreet?”

Niall feels hot all of a sudden, and not in a good way. In a the-room’s-too-small way. 

“Just because, you know, we already talked about everything on the boat, and I know it’s shitty timing, but I don’t think we can keep it a secret, Niall. Not after last time.”

“No, I know.” He’s right, Niall knows. And it’s not that he _wants_ to keep it a secret or anything, it’s just the alternative involves a lot of work and serious conversations. It feels like that’s all Niall’s doing these days. “It’ll fucking blow up in our faces if we don’t.”

Harry scoots closer, until he’s pressed against Niall’s side. They’re not holding hands or anything, but Niall’s arms are limp at his sides, so they could be if either of them moved. “We could do it together,” he suggests.

Niall’s laugh cuts through the room, loud and sudden. “I’m sorry, but that’d be so fucking weird.”

He can’t stop picturing all four of them sitting around the room, having a serious-as-fuck discussion about him and Harry dating. What a shitshow that’d be.

“I was trying to be nice!” 

“I know.” Niall knocks his knuckles against the back of Harry’s hand and leans heavier into his side. “But…”

“Yeah.” Harry leans into him, a counterbalance. “I know.”

“Lou isn’t home yet.” Niall turns his head so he can brush a kiss against Harry’s cheek, waiting for him to get the hint and turn fully. “We could make the most of the time until he gets back.”

He kisses the dimple that appears in Harry’s cheek, smiling himself when Harry shifts, curling one leg onto the bed so he can lean over Niall, pushing his shirt up. Niall regrets putting it back on in the first place.

“Could unlock the door, let him find out for himself?”

Niall laughs, feeling Harry hide his grin in the column of his neck. He threads his fingers through Harry’s hair, holding him there. “You are a sadistic bastard, Styles.” 

**

Sophia’s long gone by the time Niall gets back, Liam slightly happier than when she’d arrived. It’s not perfect, but Niall doesn’t feel like he has to tiptoe around the apartment. 

“You okay?” Niall asks him the next day, while they’re both pretending to do homework, Jeopardy playing in the background.

Liam takes his time before he says, “I guess. We talked about it a lot. She said she needs to have her own life, first. That we’re only twenty-two and she wants to like, be successful in her own right.” The way he says it makes Niall think he’s repeating Sophia word-for-word. “Which makes sense, I guess. Still sucks to hear, though.”

“You guys are okay, though, right?” Niall is pretty sure Sophia would’ve texted him if they weren’t, but he still needs to check. 

Liam nods. “Yeah. We’re good.” He allows himself a small smile, like he’s not positive but it’s close. 

Niall sighs, relieved. “Good.” 

He knows he should tell Liam about Harry, but it feels weird, blurting it out right now. He wants to let him have some time to process his own shit before shoveling his on top of it. 

_You tell Louis yet?_

_WORKING ON IT._

Niall stares at his phone for a minute. If Harry hasn’t said anything yet, then they’re good. 

“DORA,” Liam shouts at the TV. 

Niall looks up just in time to see the Final Jeopardy question on the screen. “ _Who is_ Dora,” he says pointedly. 

Liam flips him off, laughing. He really looks a lot better.

**

“Hey,” Niall says a couple nights later, cornering Liam in the kitchen while he’s making a sandwich. “Can you -- what are you doing? Didn’t you just eat?”

“The restaurant’s portions were like, this big,” Liam holds his hand up, his thumb and finger making the tiniest circle for him to peek through. “That is not enough food, Niall.”

“Told you you should’ve gone to Olive Garden but did you listen to me? Noooooooo.”

Liam laughs. He whistles while he’s putting together his sandwich, bopping around. It must’ve been a good date, even if there wasn’t enough to eat. Niall thinks about how easy it would be to just slip back out of the room, say nothing at all. Louis hasn’t texted or tweeted or like, hired a skywriter yet so he thinks Harry’s probably hesitating too, but like, they can’t wait forever.

“What’s wrong? Did you not get the job?”

“What? No.” Niall blinks himself out of his trance, watching Liam sit at the table, unfolding a napkin in his lap. “That’s -- I haven’t even had my review yet. Why?”

“You look stressed. Do you want half my sandwich?” He holds half of it out. Niall considers it. It looks really good. 

“No,” he says, shaking his head. If he starts eating he’ll just… never say anything. He sits down, drumming his fingers on the table. 

Liam raises one eyebrow. “You’re sure you’re okay?” It sounds less concerned with a mouth full of turkey and Swiss. Niall feels the tiniest bit better. Like, a Liam’s-dinner-portion-size better.

“Yeah, it’s just.” He takes a deep breath and tells himself to bite the bullet. “You know how you tricked me and Harry into rooming together on the cruise?”

Liam laughs to himself. “Yeah.” 

“Well.” Niall waits, hoping Liam will realize what he’s not saying. When he doesn’t, Niall scratches his nose, says, “We sort of started hooking up again.” Liam’s eyebrows shoot up. Niall doesn’t let himself stop talking. “And then decided to like... go for it. For real. Like, date.” He makes a face after he says it, hating how it sounds so formal and stilted. Liam doesn’t seem to notice. 

“That’s GREAT.” Liam has never looked more like his own mother than in this moment. “Since BREAK? You should’ve said!”

Niall waves his hand. “You were going through some shit, we didn’t want to like, be cruel.”

“It isn’t cruel,” Liam says, though Niall knows a week ago it would’ve been an entirely different story. He goes to the fridge for a beer, grabbing one for Liam, too. “So you’re like… really dating?” 

Niall shrugs. They’re not like, going out for fancy dinners or shit, but yeah. Technically.

“That’s great.” Liam looks honestly happy for a minute, tucking into his sandwich. Niall opens his beer, taking a long drink. It’s good, to have this over with. He hadn’t thought Liam would react badly or whatever, but he’d been stressing about it. Stupidly, apparently. 

_Liam’s happy 4 us_ he texts Harry under the table. _Probably planning double dates so be prepared_

_IM TELLING LOU TONIGHT_

_GODSPEED_ he sends back, feeling slightly victorious for having managed to beat Harry to it. It wasn’t a race, but Louis knowing first would’ve been fucking insufferable. Not that Louis knowing at all won’t be, but. Jesus. 

“What’re you guys gonna do?” Liam asks. 

Niall stops smiling at his phone like an idiot. “About what?”

“Like, graduation and stuff. What are you gonna do about next year?” 

“What?” Niall can feel himself pale. He hadn’t been thinking that far in advance, doesn’t think Harry has either. Or maybe he has. Has he? Niall leans back in his seat, his chest feeling tight. 

“Sorry,” Liam says, “I didn’t -- it’s just, with Soph and everything, I keep thinking --” 

“No, it’s fine.” Niall knows it doesn’t _sound_ like it’s fine, but he means it. Liam wasn’t trying to be nosy or anything. “We haven’t really…” 

“Oh.” 

Niall laughs hollowly. 

“I’m sure you’ll work it out though,” Liam says. “There’s plenty of time.” 

Niall glances at the calendar hanging on their wall, where some dumb superhero is celebrating January. They have to change it. It’s fucking March now. Almost April. Jesus. Some shit timing he and Harry have, waiting til the last possible second to decide to stop being miserable idiots and give it a go. 

Still. Liam’s sort of right. There’s still _some_ time left. And it’s not like he wants to say fuck it and give up just because school’s over in a couple months. He’s got plenty of shit to worry about; him and Harry is like, one of the more stable things in his life right now.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Liam says.

“For what?”

“Helping Lou switch the rooms. You clearly owe us.”

Niall sputters for so long Liam starts choking on his sandwich, and then they’re just two idiots trying to remember how to breathe.

**

“No,” Niall says, staring across the table at Harry. “You didn’t.”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“Use your words?” Niall doesn’t mean to yell, it’s just super fucking loud in this bar.

“To be fair,” Louis says, “he did _technically_ use his words.”

“And Harry _is_ a better writer than speaker,” Liam says.

“Thank you, Liam.” Harry makes a face. “I think.”

“This is really good though, Harry.” Liam tilts Louis’s phone so they can all see the picture again, Harry grinning wildly as he holds a cake that says _I’m fucking Niall!!!!_ “How did you do it so straight?”

“Well,” Harry starts.

“Oh my god.” Niall immediately reaches for the pitcher, pouring the rest of the beer in his cup.

“Why, Liam?” Louis reaches across the table to smack him upside the head, his hand swinging wildly as Liam tries to duck him.

“In high school I worked in a bakery,” Harry says, ignoring all the melee. He catches Niall’s eye across the table and smiles, not as wide as he had been in Louis’s picture, but different. He looks really fucking happy. Niall can’t stop himself from smiling back.

**

“So these are the options for you.” Paul slides a folder across the desk and Niall wills his hands not to shake when he picks it up. “There are a few locations where we can use you, and we try to be flexible with good talent like you. So if there are any issues, let us know. Sorry we don’t have anything near the Boston area, but I think there’s some good variety there.”

“Thank you." Niall glances down at the list clipped to the outside of the folder. He can’t tell if it’s too short or too long. “I really appreciate this.”

“Once you decide, give it a couple of weeks? Once you do that, then we can talk more about timeline and paperwork. Get you started. You’ll be relocating no matter what, so there will be time left to arrange that.”

Paul smiles, holding out his hand and standing, and Niall stands on shaky legs, wiping his hand quick on his pants before focusing on keeping his handshake firm and professional, one Bobby Horan would be proud of. 

“I’ll email you a soft copy of that as well,” Paul nods to the folder, “along with some other information and deadlines. We’ll talk soon, Niall.”

“Thanks, Paul." Niall takes a deep breath before he smiles. “I’ll be in touch.”

He walks out, clutching the folder tightly on his way to Liam’s car. Niall had pretty much accepted that he was going to be offered some job when he went for his review, but he’d never imagined it was going to be basically a choose your own adventure type scenario. Even though one of the reasons he was so anxious to get this internship was the possibility of having options all over after graduation, he’d never imagined it would be like this.

Or that he’d have a whole other list of things to worry about. Well. Just the one thing, really. Niall can’t help but remember what Liam had said the other night, Niall refusing to think about it the whole drive home.

**

“Niall!!” Harry’s there when he walks in, him and Liam spread out with their computers and shit everywhere. “Well?”

“I thought you had class,” Niall shifts his bag on his shoulder; it feels like the folder inside is burning up or something. Like he can feel that it’s there. Harry was already coming over for dinner anyway, and seeing his dumb smiling face is making Niall feel a little less overwhelmed.

“I did,” Harry stretches, “but I finished my paper early and turned it in during office hours so I could skip and be here when you got back." He shrugs, grinning up at Niall, and Niall thinks about how just yesterday Harry was moaning about how he was never going to finish his paper on time. He wonders how late, exactly, Harry stayed up to finish early. 

“So?" Liam tips his head back against the futon, looking up at Niall. “How did it go?”

“It went, uh." Niall looks down, then back at both of them. “Really well. I got an offer.”

“Heyyyyyy,” Liam grins, setting his laptop to the side and getting up while Harry struggles to do the same on the floor. “Congratulations." He hugs Niall quickly. It would have probably gone on much longer if Harry hadn’t pushed him out of the way. 

“Liam, get off my...uh,” Harry pauses with his arms half around Niall, Niall’s bag bumping awkwardly between them. “My Niall.” 

Liam starts laughing. “You two are idiots.”

“Sorry,” Harry stage whispers to Niall, “Liam’s just grumpy because I gave him a lot of edits for his paper.”

“Fuck,” Liam frowns, “don’t remind me, I better get back to it.”

“It’ll be good, Liam,” Harry sounds like it’s not the first time he’s said it in the last couple of hours. “It’s not that many things to change.”

“It’s every thing to change,” Liam grumbles, holding up a printed out copy of his paper, Niall recognizing Harry’s handwriting in red all over it. 

Niall laughs. “You better get to it, Li. We, uh,” Niall squeezes at Harry’s hip. “Wanna go upstairs and talk?”

“Sure." Harry’s already pulling at Niall’s hand to follow him up the stairs. “Liam, I’ll be in Niall’s room if you have questions.”

“Yeah, I’m not going near there, nice try." Liam laughs, his head bent over his computer.

“So an offer?" Harry bounces on the bed as the door closes behind them, looking up at Niall. “What kind of offer is it?”

“It’s…” Niall sets his bag on the chair, pulling out the folder and handing it to Harry before he shrugs out of his suit jacket. He sits next to Harry as he opens it, loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves. It feels hot in the room.

“So you get to choose?" Harry’s eyes are moving as he reads, his voice soft. “From all these places?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a couple of weeks to go over the options, and like --” Niall shrugs, unsure what else to say.

“I didn’t know you wanted to go to Chicago,” Harry says quietly. He doesn’t sound upset, not really, but Niall knows Harry better than almost anyone and something about it makes him feel uneasy. He wishes he could put this conversation off forever. 

“I knew that it was a possible option, maybe, but,” Niall reaches out to rub at Harry’s thigh. “I also knew Boston was a possible option, and that’s not on the list, so it was really a crapshoot?”

“Louis had his interview with the company in Milwaukee yesterday,” Harry takes a deep breath, “he said he thought it went well.”

“Yeah, he texted me about it." Niall’s not sure where Harry’s at right now, and it terrifies him.

“It’s really close to Chicago. Isn’t that where Sophia’s going to be, too?" Harry turns his head and meets Niall’s eyes for a moment before looking back down at the list, his finger playing with the edge of the folder.

“You’ll get in." Niall believes it, can’t entertain anything else, really. “And what about UCSC? I read over your research, it’s a good program too.”

“That was a back-up of a back-up, Niall." Harry reaches down, setting the folder on the floor. “You know how far LA is from there? San Diego? California’s a giant state.”

Niall recognizes the names of the only two California placements on the list. His mouth goes dry. A huge part of him wants to just say he’ll take whatever will work out best for Harry; wants to tell Harry the truth, that he’d done a project with some of the Chicago guys and it’s truthfully pretty high on his list. It’s so much, so soon. 

“I know it is. But Harry, shit’s going to work out for everyone." For us, is what Niall doesn’t say. Because he doesn’t really know that for certain. 

“It’s just like,” Harry starts pulling at his bottom lip, “everyone is getting good news every day? And I’m stuck here, just waiting. It just sucks.”

“I’m sorry,” Niall says automatically, feeling guilty. For no good reason other than he doesn’t like feeling like he’s contributed in some way to Harry being like this.

“No, don’t apologize." Harry sounds frustrated. “I’m just freaked out, is all. I’m not trying to ruin your good news.”

He shakes his head, leaning forward on his elbows and just out of Niall’s reach when Niall tries to wrap his arm around him. 

“It’s good news, but like…” Niall takes a deep breath. “Liam had asked me when I told him. What we were gonna do.”

“About what?" Harry sounds like he’s far away. 

“Us. Going for it with like,” Niall rubs his palms on his pants, pushes up his sleeves some more. “Being together? Um. Dating. And the future.”

“Oh." Harry turns his head, looking at Niall with wide eyes. He’s not smiling. “What did you tell him?”

“I said I didn’t know." Niall reaches down for the folder, tossing it across the room so it’ll hit his desk. He doesn’t want it so close to them. “Do you?”

“I don’t know, Niall, I --” Harry sighs, rubbing at his face. He stands up, pacing back and forth in the small strip of space that’s open. “We’re graduating in a _month_.”

“I know." 

Harry stops in front of Niall. He has a look on his face Niall hasn’t seen in months. “It’s only been a few weeks since we got back." His shoulders sag a bit. “This fucking sucks.”

“I know." Niall doesn’t know what else to say. It feels like that’s it, that’s all they can do. Admit that the situation is the fucking worst and then see what happens. 

“Zayn should have gone ghost last year instead,” Harry mutters, and then looks up, surprised, when Niall laughs. “I know. I _know_ I’m being ridiculous, but.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Harry." Niall doesn’t feel like it’s his place to ask Harry for anything; that they’ve been each working separately for four years to get to where they need to be and for one of them to decide for the other now after being together for a handful of weeks feels wrong. Unfair. 

“I wish I knew." Harry blinks when Niall meets his eyes, rubbing at one. “I’m sorry, this is just hard. I thought we were done with hard.”

“Well,” Niall raises his eyebrows, trying to go for the easy joke, but Harry just looks at him wide-eyed and sad. “Harry, I’m sorry. I have a couple of weeks, and we don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“Yeah." Harry nods. He doesn’t move.

“You’re spending the night tonight, right?" They had planned it out now that Louis and Liam knew and they could, figuring out their schedules and what would work best. This was the first time neither of them had anything to finish. “We’ll order something, chill out.”

“Yeah." Harry says again. “Actually, I think I’m gonna go home?”

“Harry." Niall stands up to face Harry, putting his hand on his arm. “C’mon.”

“It’s not, I’m not mad." Harry reaches up to cup his hand around Niall’s cheek. “Things are okay, I just need a night to get over myself or something.”

Niall circles his hand around Harry’s wrist. He thinks about Sophia on the cruise and how upset she was that Liam didn’t understand what she was saying. “If that’s what you need, okay.”

“Thanks, Ni." Harry looks down, his thumb smoothing over Niall’s cheekbone before he steps forward, pressing his lips to Niall’s. He kisses him for a long moment, Niall tightening his grip on Harry’s wrist when Harry pulls away, pressing their foreheads together.

“It’s just a job." Niall says. “It’s just grad school.”

“It’s only our futures." Harry laughs softly. He drops his hand, his eyes looking glassy when he steps away. “I’m gonna go get my stuff together and go. We can -- if you need me or if you get bored, you can text me, okay?”

“Right, right." Niall’s eyes hurt and his throat feels tight. He forces a smile on his face. “It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah." Harry pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “Niall, it really is awesome you’ve got this. You deserve it and I know you’ve worked so hard for it. All the other stuff aside, that’s what’s most important.”

He’s staring at Niall’s eyes intently as he speaks, and Niall digs his nails into his palms so he doesn’t beg Harry to stay. 

“Maybe not most,” Niall gets out before Harry leaves. 

Niall’s hands are shaking when he grabs his phone, texting Harry immediately.

_I’m bored_

“Give it ten minutes!” Harry yells from downstairs, Niall not replying. He opens up his email on his phone instead, starts to read through the information Paul sent.

**

“This is the worst,” Liam announces a couple of days later, looking at his phone. Niall looks up from where he was finishing up an email to Jade and the rest of their group before he heads over to see Harry. They’ve been talking on and off, and Niall feels less like he wants to lie down in traffic, but he needs to _see_ him.

“What’s the worst?" Niall backspaces for the tenth time. Why is typing suddenly so fucking hard when he’s in a rush?

“My mom just texted me." Liam looks at his phone, reading it out loud, “Honey I’m at Target do you want new sheets for your bed?”

“Well, your sheets at home have bunnies on them, Liam." Niall’s slept on them enough Thanksgivings to know. 

“Just." Liam sighs. “She means for like, next year.”

“Well then tell her no.”

“Obviously I want new sheets either way Niall, Jesus." Liam rolls his eyes as he replies, tossing his phone down on the floor with a thud. “But I don’t want to _need_ them.”

Niall hits send, finally realizing what Liam means. “Oh.”

“Sophia and El are apartment hunting right now." Liam frowns. “You can go wherever, Louis is probably gonna be in Milwaukee and I’m going to end up alone and working with my _dad_.”

It doesn’t escape Niall that Harry wasn’t in Liam’s list. 

“Liam, you don’t know what’s going to happen." Niall wishes that Liam had done an internship like he had, gotten a job other than his part time one to transition or something. “Weren’t you going to like, do some job hunting in different places over the summer and see what happens?”

“Yeah." Liam crosses his arms. “I was." 

“It’s going to be okay, and trust me, I’m not in a great place right now either." Niall sighs, it coming out embarrassing and shaky.

“I know." Liam reaches out to ruffle Niall’s hair. “Finding someone you love is a real bitch, right? There’s so much shit to figure out.”

“I didn’t --” Niall freezes with his laptop only halfway closed. 

“Oh, sorry." Liam grins. “Finding someone you _like_ like is a real bitch, right?”

“Fuck you." Niall laughs. “Are you happy now?”

“Well, a little bit, yeah." Liam shrugs. “Thanks for that, buddy.”

“Anytime.” Niall stands up. “I’m out of here though. See you later?”

“Sure." Liam grabs the can of Red Bull he’s been nursing for the past hour. “Have you figured anything out yet?”

“No." Niall shakes his head. “Please don’t remind me.”

“There’s still time, you know." Liam says reasonably. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but there is.”

“Hey Liam,” Niall grabs his keys on they out the door, “go look in a mirror and say that again.”

**

“Well well well,” Louis smiles when he answers the door, “I hear there’s a congratulations in order.”

“Same for you?" Niall grins when Louis nods, giving him a thumbs up. “You got it?”

“Just heard this morning,” Louis takes a deep breath, laughing. “I still can’t really believe it.”

“That’s awesome." The shittiest part of Niall is jealous that Louis is all set, just like that. But then he thinks about this entire year, and he just feels grateful that Louis’s gotten to that point.

“Harry’s in his room,” Louis says, turning around before flopping down on the futon. “He’s gonna be fine, Niall.”

“Did he tell you that?" Niall’s been sort of avoiding Louis the last couple of days, afraid of what Louis might tell him about how Harry’s doing. 

“No, he told me how fucked up he’s feeling over what he wants." Louis squints up at Niall. “But it’s all about the surrounding shit, not about you.”

“I don’t know what to do." Niall starts, Louis laughing.

“Does anyone?" Louis messes with his hair. “I’m just as fucked up now as I was before I got my offer. Because it’s real, and we still don’t know what’s going to happen. Or where everyone will be.”

“Yeah, Liam’s freaked too. Mrs. Payne bought him new sheets." Niall widens his eyes. “I think Liam’s sure his dad is printing out business cards for him already.”

“About that, I --” Louis sits up. “Do you have a second before you go have your hard conversation about the future?”

“Thanks for calling it that, but sure." Niall sits on the edge of the futon. “What’s up?”

“I was sort of thinking about like, asking Liam if he’d want to get an apartment with me in Milwaukee?" Louis says in a rush. “Because it’ll be cheaper that way and the job market there is pretty good, and it’ll be close to Chicago and Sophia.”

“No shit." Niall thinks about it; it sort of sounds like a perfect idea. It makes him feel happy for Liam. And for Louis. “That’d be good, and you know he’d never say no to his best friend.”

“It’s not pity, Niall." Louis says suddenly, “I think I’d feel better if he’s there, to be honest. Everything’s going to be so different, it’d be good to have my best friend around to keep me in check.”

“I didn’t think it was,” Niall doesn’t know what else to say, so he sits back a little so he can wrap his arm around Louis. “You should go ask him now, in fact.”

“I’m not going to leave so you can fuck Harry, asshat." Louis laughs when Niall flips him off. “I see through your game, Horan.”

“I’m going,” Niall flips Louis off again for good measure as he makes his way down the hallway to Harry’s room with Louis laughing behind him. 

Harry’s got the door open, twisted up weird in his chair as he reads through something. 

“Hey,” Niall closes the door behind himself, Harry turning. He smiles, at least.

“I thought I heard you,” Harry starts to untangle himself, tilting his head back until Niall gives him a quick kiss. “Hey.”

“How are your legs not numb from sitting that way?" Niall sits on the bed a little too hard, bouncing nearly off after he lands. 

“It’s better for my back." Harry stretches, cracking it to make a point. He sits next to Niall, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his cheek, then his neck. He takes Niall’s hand. “Hey.”

“You already said that.” Niall turns his head though, brushing his lips against Harry’s again. 

“I missed you." Harry laughs. “I know it’s been two days and I was the one who left, but I miss you.”

“If we’re on borrowed time,” Niall regrets saying it nearly immediately after he sees how Harry’s face falls, “then maybe less breaks in seeing each other.”

“No one said that,” Harry takes a deep breath. “Listen, I’m not saying we should decide right now or anything, but maybe we should take one part out of the equation?”

“What do you mean?" Niall suddenly desperately understands why Liam thought Sophia was breaking up with him. It’s terrifying, to care about someone so much. 

“Like, if we agree that it’ll be a together thing,” Harry says slowly, “the where of it will come easier? Or not easier, but with less worrying.”

“I was thinking,” Niall exhales, “there is a location in San Francisco, maybe I could talk to them and see if there’s a waitlist for a position there? It’s only an hour away --”

“Niall. Niall." Harry cuts him off, putting one finger on Niall’s lips. “They gave you an entire list to choose from, don’t jeopardize that.”

“But." Niall tries to speak around Harry’s finger. 

“But nothing." Harry shrugs. “I think we don’t talk about it for a few days. I know we’re on a deadline here, but maybe just a couple of days where all we know is that this --” Harry points between the two of them, “is still happening will clear our heads a bit?”

“Sure." Niall knows that Harry’s oversimplifying things, that nothing at all is a guarantee. That neither of them should wait around for the other. But on another level, he doesn’t give a fuck. “Let’s do that.”

“Good." Harry nods, leaning forward to kiss Niall’s shoulder. “Now, can you lock my door? I’ve blocked off some time for you and want to make Louis as uncomfortable as possible.”

“You’re --” Niall can’t finish his sentence because he’s not entirely sure what might come out, gets up to lock the door and see what Harry has in store for him instead. 

**

“No, Ma, I don’t know yet --” Niall pauses so he doesn’t lose it on his poor mother. She only asked him at the very end of their conversation how his decision making process was going, and now he’s about to go off on her. 

“I was just checking,” his mom says. “I know you’ll let me know either way. Just promise you’ll visit.”

“Of course I’ll visit." Niall wonders how it’ll go when he does visit, tells her in person about him and Harry. His dad fucking loves Harry so he’ll probably be fine; his mom will be too, it’s just a big change. Niall doesn’t know why he’s even thinking about it when he doesn’t know where the fuck he’ll be next year, or if Harry will be with him for sure.

“Good sweetie." His mom hums. “I’ll let you go, I’m going to forward you all the flight info for graduation, okay?”

“Sounds good." Niall feels that knot in his stomach; he’s less than a week out from his deadline and there’s not much longer after that to deal with commencement. “Love ya.”

“You too." After she hangs up, Niall shoves his phone in the pocket of his shorts, feeling a little chill as he walks to his lab. It’s not quite warm enough for shorts yet but Niall’s dressing hopefully these days. 

He and Harry haven’t really gotten anywhere yet, the couple of days moratorium turning into nearly a full week now. It’s both better and worse that they haven’t talked about it. Niall got a friendly reminder email from Paul the day before, and it’s weighing heavy on his mind. 

They’ll figure it out. Niall ducks his head down when the wind picks up. It’ll work out. It has to.

**

“I’m not talking to you." Louis says to Niall when he walks in. “Ever again.”

“Okay?" Niall’s dead on his feet, had ended up at Sophia’s with Liam the night before trying to help her take apart her closet organizer. It took them seven hours and twice as many beers. She can probably get her security deposit back.

“He moved the blanket." Harry comes out of the kitchen, rolling his eyes as he laughs. “We were trying to figure out who gets what after we move.”

“It’s been four years of commingled shit,” Louis makes a face, “little did I know how commingled it was.”

“I told you not to touch it because I bought it,” Harry shrugs and Niall can tell this argument has been going on for a while. “And that I was sorry you’ve napped on it so much.”

“For the record,” Niall points out, laughing at how Louis looks like he’s about to puke, “we couldn’t just flip it over because of _you_.”

“And Harry _knew about it_ ,” Louis throws up his hands, “he helped me flip it over! We don’t keep jizz secrets when it comes to _things people sleep on_.”

“We were keeping jizz secrets then, though." Harry reminds him. “Seriously, we at least tried to clean it up first. You weren’t even this mad the time Zayn had sex in the kitchen.”

“Yes, and if you’ll recall we _both_ made him disinfect the fuck out of it." Louis groans, shuddering like he’s in the middle of a horror movie.

“And we washed the blanket so it’s like not even a thing." Niall steps forward to rub his hand over the blanket. “It’s barely jizz at all.”

“I think the forensic evidence will say otherwise." Louis says darkly. 

“Are you gonna take swabs, Lou?" Harry reaches down to pop the button on his jeans. “Need a sample from me?”

“It’s both of ours, really, so he probably needs us both,” Niall says to Harry, Harry nodding. “How does that sound, Louis?”

“It sounds like I am no longer fine with you two assholes being together." Louis frowns. “It is affecting me negatively now.”

“Sorry Louis, I’m afraid we can’t change that." Harry sighs. “Damn, you missed the cutoff.”

“Please tell me one of you busted a nut on Liam’s pillow or something,” Louis gets up and shoves his feet into his shoes, grabbing his keys like he can’t get out of there soon enough. “I need an ally in this.”

“Sorry,” Niall grins. “Liam and I have commingling rules.”

Louis stands there for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. 

“Fuck both of you and your Dick McStuffins blanket,” he says before he leaves, Harry grinning at Niall as the door closes. 

“You should have heard how high his voice got,” Harry says, “I heard it clear through my headphones.”

“It works out this way,” Niall hooks his fingers in the waistband of Harry’s jeans, tugging him forward. “He’ll be gone for a while, and I don’t have class for another two hours.”

“That is true.” Harry grins, spinning and pushing Niall up against the wall. “C’mon, we’ll do him a solid and go to my room.”

“C’mere,” Niall pulls him forward, Harry following.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Niall says a while later, his hand fisted tight in Harry’s hair. “Shit, I’m close.”

Harry hums from where he’s got his mouth stretched around Niall’s cock, like he knows that it’ll set Niall off even more. Niall’s hips jerk, just enough to feel the head of his cock bump the back of Harry’s throat. Harry pulls off so he can cough, rolling Niall’s balls in his palm as he keeps working him over slowly.

“Sorry,” Niall tugs at Harry’s hair gently, feeling like he’s coming apart. “Was too fucking good.”

“Don’t worry, I take it as a compliment,” Harry laughs hoarsely, it turning into a cough. “Now hold still.”

“Oh fuck, no, I’m --” Niall’s suddenly right at the edge when Harry twists his wrist and opens his lips to take Niall’s cock back in, and it’s all he can do to not yank at Harry’s hair too hard as he comes over Harry’s mouth in spurts. It’s like pure instinct when he reaches down with the hand that was gripping the sheets to grip the base of his dick as it twitches, smearing the head of it over Harry’s bottom lip while he finishes. “Shit. Shit." 

“Well,” Harry’s licking at his lips, wiping his fingers over the corner of his mouth. “That was new.”

“I don’t know,” Niall laughs, collapsing back on the bed as Harry pushes up next to him. “God, that was fucking hot, though.”

“Um,” Harry rolls over on his side, urging Niall forward so they can kiss. Niall can taste himself, and his sensitive dick jerks painfully when he thinks about what just happened, groaning. 

“Yeah?" Niall reaches down, circling his hand around Harry’s dick. “Your turn.”

“I wanna,” Harry bites his lip, breathing hard into Niall’s mouth when he thumbs at Harry’s slit to gather the wetness there. “Sort of like...what just happened…”

“Sure, of course.” Niall’s a fair person. “Move over, and I’ll --”

“No no, I mean like,” Harry laughs, “remember in Florida, when I accidentally, uh…”

“You want to come on my face?” Niall can feel his cheeks flush. “Like on purpose? My whole face.”

“Not your whole face, I’m not planning on blinding you, ah,” Harry moans under his breath when he thrusts up into Niall’s loose grip on his dick. “Just. I don’t know, this made me think of it.”

“Here,” Niall wants to laugh, wants to will his dick to get hard again at the hungry look on Harry’s face. “Lie back, I’ll make your dreams come true.”

“Seriously?" Harry nearly falls off the bed trying to reposition himself. Niall places steadying hands on Harry’s hips, watches as his dick leaks more when Niall drags his nails down. “You’re killing me.”

“Do you,” Niall pulls off Harry’s dick a few minutes later, watching Harry’s abs contract. He trails his fingertips along Harry’s inner thigh. “Do you want my fingers, too?”

“Oh shit, I --” Harry knocks Niall’s hand from his dick, squeezing it and closing his eyes. He takes a deep breath. “No, I’m -- I’m good for now.”

“I was hoping it’d be better than good,” Niall laughs, “but sure.”

“Not time for semantics --” Harry stutters out, his whole body going taut as Niall goes down as far as he can without gagging. “Niall, Niall, fuck.”

He pulls at Niall’s hair, and Niall pulls off just in time to watch Harry’s face as he comes. His instinct would be to close his eyes, but there’s something stirring in his gut and he wants to watch, trusts Harry in this nonsensical way as the first hot splash of his come hits Niall’s cheek. Harry drops his hand from Niall’s hair to slide his thumb through it, his mouth opening but without any sound coming out as he finishes. 

“Thanks,” Harry whispers after he’s done, his thumb still tracing over Niall’s cheekbone. He’s not rubbing it in, just staring at Niall with a look of awe on his face. 

“I’m,” the heat of the moment starts to wear off after a minute, and Niall ducks his head down to wipe his face on Harry’s stomach. “Sorry.”

“Okay, I own towels,” Niall can feel the rumble of Harry’s laugh through his cheek where it’s pressed to Harry’s skin. “You fucker.”

“We’re not keeping jizz secrets, remember?" Niall pets at Harry’s thigh, avoiding his softening cock. “I had to.”

“That is _not_ how you define a jizz secret." Harry’s still laughing, and Niall can feel the bed shift as he reaches for something, a towel landing on Niall’s head a moment later. “Wipe off, I wanna kiss you and we’re on borrowed time.”

**

“It’s good,” Niall reaches for a second helping of fajitas, Sophia and Harry high fiving over the table. 

“I just don’t get how it took you guys two hours, we could’ve eaten dinner before ten PM,” Liam takes the tortillas from Niall, the two of them eating like they’re starving while Sophia and Harry poke at their plates. Niall suspects they were eating the entire time they were “slaving away” as they so delicately put it. 

“I just don’t get how you put fuckiing mayo on yours,” Niall watches in horror as Liam slathers it on. 

“It’s good." Liam shrugs, holding out the bottle to Harry. “Want some?”

“I’m good, thanks." Harry looks disgusted, and Niall starts laughing.

“It’s pretty gross,” Sophia admits, shrugging when Liam pouts at her. “I can’t lie, Liam, I’m sorry.”

“After four years of living with you, Liam,” Niall reaches for the cheese, “you putting mayo on fajitas is the grossest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“That can’t be true,” Liam shakes his head, speaking with this mouth full. “What about --”

“The grossest,” Niall reiterates. “And once I watched Louis drink from the rinse cup at a beer pong tournament.”

Harry groans. “We all watched that,” he says.

“Alright, alright,” Sophia shakes her head. “No more fighting over questionable condiment usage.”

“The Treaty of Mayonnaise,” Harry nods, flinching when Niall kicks him under the table. “Ow, what? That wasn’t even a pun.”

“Close enough.”

“He has a point,” Liam starts, Sophia banging her fist on the table.

“ANYWAY,” Sophia announces, “it took Harry and I a long time because we made dessert first!”

“Creme brulee." Harry nods. “I brought a blow torch and everything.”

“It’s to celebrate,” Sophia cuts in before Liam or Niall can protest Harry wielding a blowtorch around their apartment when they’re so close to getting their security deposit back, “graduation is so soon.”

“And Soph just signed her lease,” Harry adds, a weird look crossing his face. 

“She did." Liam all-out pouts, pushing his plate forward. “And no matter what, we’re going to be farther away than we’ve ever been.”

“And it’s not the end of the world,” Sophia says, gently, “no matter where you end up. We’re good, Li. It’ll be good for us.”

“Seriously, Liam." Niall has heard variations on this conversation a lot over the past week. It’s not been helping him decide his own shit at all. 

The deadline is in two days. He knows, when he meets Harry’s eyes across the table, that he’s just as aware. 

“What about you, Niall?" Soph leans forward, “because if you end up in Chicago I can hook you up with the person I used, it was really helpful.”

“Um,” Niall doesn’t look at Harry, and judging from how quickly Liam clears his throat he must look not so hot as he tries to figure out what to say. “I don’t know, but thanks.”

“When are we gonna get that dessert?" Liam asks loudly, and when Niall chances a look over at Harry he’s looking down, pushing his food around his plate. 

“Niall can help me, why don’t you two go see what’s on." Sophia mouths _I’m sorry_ at Niall when he glances at her. 

“Niall, just be careful, don’t set your hair on fire." Harry sounds mostly normal when he brushes a kiss to Niall’s cheek as he makes his way out of the kitchen. 

“Sorry,” Sophia says as soon as they’re gone. She’s leaning against the counter, shaking her head. “I honestly didn’t mean to start anything, I thought maybe you’d decided and I just didn’t know yet.”

Niall knows that she’s sort of being a shit over how she found out about him and Harry from Liam, but Niall had mostly hoped she’d figured it out the last night of the cruise. Turns out she didn’t think it was weird he and Harry had a converted king while she was dealing with horrible heartbreak. 

“Hey, I told you already that we hadn’t decided anything. In person." Niall knows Sophia thinks they need to be out with it, but Sophia also doesn’t know shit. 

“And Harry hasn’t heard anything?" She asks, opening the fridge and pulling out little cups of custard to hand to Niall. 

“Nope.”

“What are your other options?" Sophia asks, setting down a cookie sheet for Niall to set the cups on. 

“Nothing, really." Which is the fucking worst part. The only other option for them both other than Chicago is being seven hours apart in California, at a program Harry’s not even into. It’s not really an option. Niall just keeps hoping that Harry will get accepted and the decision will be made for them without him feeling shitty like he’s forcing Harry to follow him where there’s nothing for him.

“Hmmm." Sophia stops what she’s doing, pulling Niall into a hug in the middle of the fucking kitchen. “You looked like you needed this.”

Niall buries his face in her neck, inhaling deeply and smelling the shampoo he steals sometimes when he’s out. “Thanks, Soph. If I do end up in Chicago, will you still make me dinner and tell me I’m an idiot sometimes?”

Sophia laughs, rubbing his back. “We’ll pencil it in.”

**

“ _Niall_ ,” Harry’s shaking him, and Niall tries to roll over to press his face harder into his pillow. They’d fallen asleep not long after dessert, making out before they got too tired. It’s not even finals yet; Niall doesn’t know how they’re going to survive the next handful of weeks. 

“What?" Niall keeps his eyes closed, Harry still shaking at his shoulder. “What time is it?”

“If I tell you, then you won’t wake up." Harry laughs, kissing the corner of Niall’s mouth, then his lips, until Niall turns and opens his eyes. Harry looks sheepish, his hair standing out all over his head. “Okay, it’s four in the morning.”

“Goodnight, the door is over there,” Niall starts to turn back over, but then Harry’s kissing him again, Niall unable to resist. “I’ll wake up, just give me a second and we can go.”

“No, I just,” Harry’s sitting up with his knees pressing into Niall’s side now. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Is everything okay?" Niall rubs at his face, trying to will his brain to catch up. “Do you need something?”

“Yeah, but --” Harry’s looking down at him with an intense look on his face. “I want us to go to Chicago.”

“Harry, it’s the middle of the night,” Niall feels like he’s panicking a little, doesn’t want to trust it. “We can talk about this in the morning.”

“No, because we won’t, I --” Harry leans forward, pressing his palms flat on Niall’s chest and stomach like he’s grounding himself or something. Niall goes still under his touch.

“What is it?" Niall whispers.

“I haven’t been able to sleep, I can’t stop thinking about it." Harry’s speaking slowly, deliberately. “I really want this program, Niall. I know you, I know you think I’d be giving something up if I go without a guarantee.”

“I --” Niall squeezes Harry’s knee. Harry cuts him off.

“No, I know you. And I don’t know if you remember, but you told me how much you liked working with the Chicago people. It makes _sense_ , Niall. It does.”

“But what about the waiting list?" Niall asks, hates how it sounds when his voice breaks in the deafening quiet of his room. All he can hear is how loud Harry’s breathing.

“I could find out tomorrow, I could find out never and I have to reapply." Harry shrugs, “it is what it is. I’ll get a job while I wait. But it’s worth it, you know?”

“Are you sure?" Niall struggles to sit up, disoriented at how close Harry is. “This is a huge thing.”

“No shit." Harry cups Niall’s cheek, Niall so tired he tilts his head into the touch. “But it’s worth it. You’re...you’re worth it.”

Harry’s biting at his lip like he knows what he’s just said is a lot, a lot for them both. 

“If you got in and Chicago wasn’t on my list,” Niall says, hoping Harry gets it, “I’d still go with you. We’d figure it out.”

“I’m sorry, is there an echo in here?" Harry grins. “I’m pretty sure that’s what I just said.”

“Either way,” Niall shifts a little closer, practically in Harry’s lap, “we’ll figure it out.”

“So do you want to email them now?" Harry asks Niall between kisses, “I’ll talk to Sophia about apartments.”

“Harry, it’s four in the _morning_.” Niall lets Harry press him back against the pillows.

“So? Sophia’s asleep across the hall?" Harry pushes up, smiling down at Niall. “And email doesn’t have open and closed hours, Niall.”

“Email might not, but I do." Niall huffs out a breath when Harry flops down on top of him. “The sooner we sleep, the sooner we can start, Harry.”

“I’m good starting now,” Harry says into Niall’s neck. “You have to start getting used to it.”

Niall wraps his arms around Harry, breathing deeply. “I will.”

**

“Okay, before you all black out, I have an announcement." Louis sets down a round of shots, handing them out. 

They’re having a night at Jim’s before they all deal with finals, the four of them. It barely feels like it’s been any time at all since they were sitting around laughing at Louis’s cake from Harry. Niall feels like he’s lived entire lifetimes since then. 

“As you all know,” Louis begins, holding up his shot glass and motioning for the rest of them to do the same, “this has been a dumpster fire of a year.”

“Understatement." Niall says. The withering look Louis gives him makes him slump down a little bit. “Sorry.”

“No comments." Louis straightens his shoulders. “Anyway, dumpster fire. And you know what? I think that just means that this next year is going to be different.”

“My arm is starting to get tired." Harry whispers, avoiding Louis’s gaze. “What? You’re taking forever.”

“When have you ever not taken forever?" Liam asks Harry. “Have you heard yourself speak?”

“Well that’s just me, Liam, so…” Harry trails off, rolling his eyes at Niall. 

“Jesus Fucking _Christ_ , Liam and I are going to be roommates next year." Louis throws back his shot, slamming it down on the table. “I had a speech prepared, but you fuckfaces ruined it.”

“That’s great,” Harry throws his arm around Niall, “we decided on Chicago, we’re going to be living together too.”

“Well, not in the same way,” Niall says, before Liam can. “But yeah, it’s gonna be a great next year.”

He smiles at Harry, who squeezes his shoulder.

“That’s so fucking great, guys!” Liam looks at Louis. “It’s like we’re swapping roommates! Louis, it’s gonna be sick.”

“I’m going to get more shots,” Louis says, quietly, “to deal with the fact that my thunder was just stolen right out from under me.”

**

Niall gets the text as he’s walking out of his micro final, debating with Jade how much sulfate is generated in pyrite weathering. 

Harry’s sent _GOOD LUCK_ and like, every plant emoji possible. Even the Christmas tree. 

“I don’t know, I put two,” Jade says. “You really think four?”

Niall shrugs. “I don’t know. I saved that one for last, I was fucked for time.”

She sighs heavily. “Oh well. At least we never have to do that again.”

“Right?” It’s weird as shit, the way they’re checking these things off all the time. Last lab report. Last class. Last micro text ever. “Wait. Aren’t you going to grad school?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Jade rubs her forehead. “You’ll read my tech paper, right? Just in case?”

He nods. “Only if you’ll check mine.” 

“You’re the best. I’ll text you, but first I think I’m gonna sleep for like,” she checks her phone, “fuck, three hours? Hopefully.”

He throws his arm around her shoulders, hugging her quickly. “Don’t die before we graduate. That’d make it pointless.”

“If I failed, it already was!” she yells over her shoulder as she jogs away.

Niall’s phone vibrates in his hand. _Oh shit it’s over already, isn’t it?_

 _Haha yeah_ Niall sends back, heading home. _But thanks!_

_Sorry! I meant to send it and then I hit the groove on my paper and lost track of time_

_It’s cool_  
_Want 2 get lunch or something? Dinner later, if you’re free?_

They’ve had so little time lately. Niall’s seen Harry more than Liam lately, but only barely. 

_YYYYY_  
_Bring your comp, we can write our papers together!_

If Niall weren’t so dead-tired, he’d be thrilled.

**

“Harry, do you have any more Red Bull?” 

Niall looks up from the floor, where he’s got his books spread out while he goes through flashcards. Louis stares at him for a minute, a wild look in his eyes. 

“You’re not Harry.”

“He’s in the shower.” 

Louis frowns, his head tilted as he listens for the sound of running water.

“I don’t think there’s any left, though,” Niall says. There’s a growing pile of empties in the trash can next to Harry’s desk.

Louis curses under his breath. Next thing Niall knows, Louis is gone, his footsteps echoing down the hall. Niall can hear him open the bathroom door, saying something to Harry. He’s back before Niall can process anything, his brain still stuck trying to memorize environment inventory uses. 

“Do you need anything?” Louis asks.

“What?” Niall looks at the clock. “Lou, it’s one in the morning.”

“Meijer’s twenty-four hours,” he says, like that makes one AM a reasonable time for a shopping trip. “Text me if you think of anything, okay?”

Niall’s sure he won’t, but he says okay anyway. He’s still on the floor, staring at his flashcards, when Harry gets out of the shower. 

“Want some help?” he asks, dripping water on Niall’s notebook. “You have to know it by now.”

“I know jack shit,” Niall says, tipping his head backwards to look up at Harry. He’s flushed from the steam, looking cozy in sweats and a t-shirt. Niall would be jealous if he didn’t know Harry had a monster paper due in less than twelve hours. “I’m screwed.”

“I think a break might help.” Harry walks his fingers along the back of Niall’s neck. “Just a quick one.”

It sounds like such a beautiful idea. “Set an alarm,” Niall says, and Harry immediately twists to snag his phone, setting it for thirty minutes before grabbing a fistful of Niall’s shirt and hauling him onto the bed for a kiss.

Niall’s felt like he’s going insane this whole week; there’s too much riding on it this go-around. Logically, he knows he’ll still graduate, that there’s no way he’ll fail every class -- or any class, really -- but it’s still a possibility weighing heavy on his mind. 

“This doesn’t work as stress relief if you’re still mentally studying,” Harry says, his mouth damp against the curve of Niall’s jaw. 

“I wasn’t,” Niall lies. He shoves his hands down the back of Harry’s sweats to prove how much he’s not actively studying; it’s impossible to stop the noise he makes when he realizes Harry isn’t wearing underwear. “Convenient.”

“Efficient,” Harry says, grunting when Niall rolls them, getting Harry on his back. It backfires when Harry bends his leg, his thigh at just the right angle for Niall to grind against. 

“What do you want?” he asks, figuring if this was Harry’s idea, the least he can do is get something he wants out of it. Niall wants anything Harry wants; his brain is too full to come up with its own ideas right now. 

“Anything?” Harry’s still got water in the dip of his collarbone. Niall ducks his head to lick it away. 

“You’re on the clock,” he says. He doesn’t need to see Harry to know he’s frowning. 

Harry’s fingers trail over the bumps of Niall’s spine while he thinks. Niall busies himself with pushing Harry’s shirt up, his thumb circling one of Harry’s nipples while he mouths at the other one, feeling Harry arch up into him. He’s getting hard already. Maybe the timing won’t be that big a problem after all.

**

“How’d it go?” Liam asks when Niall gets home. It’s hard to fully understand him because he’s face-down on the futon. 

“Okay, I guess.” Niall drops his bag on the floor. He really doesn’t want to have to walk all the way to his room, but Liam’s already got the futon. “I definitely passed.”

“Yaaaay.” Liam pumps one fist above his head. Niall wonders how pissed he’d be if he just like, laid down on top of him. “So you’re done?”

“Just have to hand in my paper tomorrow.” Jade’s checking his over now. He’ll get to hers at some point. Just as soon as he sleeps for like, eight hours. Studying at Harry’s had been both amazing and ridiculously stupid. Niall gotten a lot of studying done, but not nearly as much actual sleeping as he’s used to. “When’s your last one again?”

“Tonight.” Liam makes a weird sound, twitching until Niall realizes he’s yanking a textbook out from under his ribs. The good old osmosis trick. “It’s pass/fail though, so.”

“You got it in the bag, buddy.” Niall pats the top of Liam’s head as he goes past. He can’t stand still for too long, otherwise he’ll die right where he is. He pauses before he gets too far, turning back to ask, “Hey, if I’m not up before you leave, can you wake me?”

He doesn’t stick around for an answer; he trusts Liam well enough.

**

_What are you doing????_

_Just handing in my paper, why?_ Niall doesn’t know why he needed to turn in a fucking physical copy instead of just emailing it. It was ridiculous to have to walk all the way to campus just to try and cram his paper into his professor’s overflowing mailbox. 

_Can you come over???_

Harry’s using way more question marks than normal, so Niall sends back _On my way_ and books it over, ignoring how he’s borderline exhausted from fixing all the edits Jade had suggested. 

“What’s up?” he asks when Harry lets him in. 

“Nothing.” Harry kisses him quick. “Just. I got an email.”

“Okay.” Niall tosses his jacket over the back of the futon. “Was it another graduation one?” They’ve been getting like, three a day. The rules of commencement, where everyone has to sit, what entrance they have to use, where to pick up their gowns, where to return their gowns. 

“No.” Harry grabs for his hand, dragging him along until they’re in his room and he can point to his computer. Niall’s stomach drops out when he reads _Congratulations!_ and _Welcome!_

“Harry.”

“I got in.” Harry says it like he still can’t believe it. Niall can’t believe it, either. “I got --”

The rest of it gets lost when Niall kisses him, trying to put all his excitement and relief into one stupid kiss. It’s impossible, but he thinks Harry gets it. Harry curls his hands around Niall’s hips, his fingers digging in so hard it’s like he’s trying to make sure this is real. Niall feels the same way. 

He hadn’t realized they were moving until his legs hit Harry’s bed and they both spill sideways. Niall kisses Harry for a moment longer before pulling back, breathing hard and taking in Harry’s bright eyes and open mouth. Niall had known Harry was stressed -- they’ve all been -- but right now, seeing him like this, finally relaxed, it’s striking. It makes him wonder what his own face looks like; if he’d been carrying a visible amount of tension because of this whole thing. 

“Do you want to go out? We could get dinner or something to celebrate,” he says. Harry’s phone’s blowing up on his nightstand; clearly he’s told people.

“No. I mean, I want to celebrate,” Harry says quickly. “But…”

He kisses Niall instead of finishing his thought, and Niall isn’t going to object to that. Isn’t going to object at all until Harry wiggles away from him, rolling off the bed. Even that falls by the wayside, because Harry says, “I was thinking.”

He gets distracted, checking his phone, biting his lip as he types something. His jeans are already unbuttoned, which Niall doesn’t remember doing, but it makes sense. His own shorts have already slipped dangerously low; a part of him wants to kick them all the way off already.

“You were thinking?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Harry does something to his phone before setting it back down. “I was gonna say I want to stay in.”

The thrill Niall gets when Harry locks his door is enough to make him press the heel of his hand against his cock. 

“That sounds like a terrible plan,” he says, watching as Harry struggles out of his jeans. It’s been such a long week -- a long few weeks. 

“Yeah?” Harry crawls over him, the back of his hand dragging deliberately over Niall’s cock. He smirks when Niall bites his lip. “Seems like you’re really against it.”

“Definitely.” Niall lifts his hips and lets Harry peel his shorts off. He frowns when Harry rolls off the bed again. “What the -- oh.”

“It’s -- we don’t have to,” Harry says, holding a condom and lube, “I just thought --”

“What part of me looks disinterested right now?” Niall asks, feeling himself go redder as Harry’s eyes skate over him. He sits up on his elbows, reaching for Harry, dragging him back to the bed. 

It’s not as stressful as the first time, but Niall still feels like he’s going to burst out of his own skin when he’s got two of his fingers inside Harry and Harry’s making these noises like he’s going to unravel, too. 

“I’m gonna, here.” Niall holds his breath as he works the tip of his third finger in. Harry’s on his front, knees drawn up under him, and it’s -- fuck, Niall doesn’t know if this is a sight he’ll ever get used to. The arch of Harry’s back, the swell of his ass, the way he’s got his face shoved into his pillow as he opens up for Niall. 

“Fuck,” he says, pushing back, his voice breaking when Niall hits his prostate just right. “Oh, fuck, Niall. Fuck.”

Niall waits until Harry’s shaking, just a little bit, and snaking one of his hands under his front, acting like he’s going to combust if he doesn’t get a hand on himself. “Ready?”

Harry nods and Niall tries not to stare as he pulls his fingers out, wiping them on the sheets and reaching for the condom. 

“You gonna stay like that?” he asks. Harry’s still in the same position, his arm moving just enough that Niall can tell he’s teasing himself. He doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere any time soon. “Alright?”

“Come on,” Harry says, shifting just enough that his ass is on even better display. Niall brushes his thumb over his hole, feeling it flutter around his fingertip before he shifts to his knees and guides his cock in. 

All he can think of, as he waits for Harry to adjust to him, is of mornings in their new apartment, doing this with Harry before work or after work or on weekends. Bending him over the counter, fucking in the shower, no roommates to worry about. How he’s spent so much of this year learning what makes Harry fall apart, and how he’s got an infinite amount of time to discover even more ways. 

“Jesus, Niall,” Harry grits out, shifting his hips, making Niall’s vision black out when Harry somehow manages to squeeze around his cock, “can you fucking move before I die here?”

“You can,” Niall says nonsensically, pulling his hips back and then grinding them forward, working a groan out of Harry. He starts slow and eventually works up to a decent rhythm, using his grip on Harry’s hips to help pull him back. It’s got Harry dropping his head, muttering nonsense into his forearm as he jerks himself off. 

It takes all the strength he has not to come first, but it’s worth it for the way Harry clenches down around him, his whole body shuddering as he comes. Niall isn’t far behind.

“Ugh,” Harry says after, still flushed and panting, “now I have to wash my sheets.”

Niall wrinkles his nose, watching Harry roll to the far side of his bed. “You could just come to mine, stay there tonight.”

Harry laughs, his eyes already closed, hand splayed over his ribs. “That’s a terrible idea. You’re going to be a horrible roommate.”

“I’m gonna be the best roommate you’ve ever had,” he says, lying directly on top of Harry. Safest spot in the bed. 

Harry hums, his hand smoothing over Niall’s spine. He doesn’t argue.

**

“For the record --”

“We know, Louis,” Liam says, shutting him up before he can get started. “You can’t believe it’s BYO.”

“Who _does_ that?” Louis yells anyway. “I mean honestly, if you’re throwing a party you can’t tell me I have to bring my own alcohol, that’s just --”

“Rude.”

“Stupid.”

“Preposterous.”

Niall very carefully doesn’t meet Harry’s eye. He knows Louis wouldn’t appreciate them cracking up laughing right now. 

“Exactly,” Louis says. “Anyway, I labeled all our beers and if I see even _one_ unauthorized person drinking them, I swear to god.”

“Jesus.” Liam rolls his eyes toward the sky. Louis takes a step forward.

“What’d you label them with?” Niall asks, before someone gets hit before they even make it to Zayn’s going away party. 

“Remember freshman year, when Louis had all those stickers that said ‘property of Louis Tomlinson?’” Harry asks.

Liam snorts. 

Niall’s eyes go wide. “You still have them?”

“I found them when I was emptying out my desk and figured, why the fuck would I cart them to Milwaukee with me?”

“Uh, so Liam doesn’t steal your cell phone charger, obviously.”

“I wouldn’t!” Liam says, looking like Niall’s accusing him of a felony. “Four years and I never stole --”

“Yeah, but that’s because Niall was keeping you on the straight-and-narrow,” Harry says. “Now you’re going to be living with this clown, who knows what’ll happen.” He throws his arm around Louis as he talks; it has the weird effect of calming him down. Or maybe that’s the beer he’s cracked open when no one was paying attention. Niall watches him drink, laughing when he sees the sticker on the bottom of the can. 

“Are we not waiting until we get there?” Liam’s the one lugging the twelve-pack. Niall doesn’t know how Louis managed to grab one out of it already.

“Why would we? Do you want to roll up sober? Plus,” Louis says, when Liam looks unconvinced, “we have our own shit to celebrate. Finals are over. Harry got into writing camp. I managed to fix the closet door so we can get our security deposit back.”

“What happened to the door?” Niall asks Harry quietly. All he gets is a tiny headshake. That’s fine. He’s probably better off not knowing.

“Lotta good things happening here, Payne, and I think you should remember that.”

It’s a convincing enough argument -- not that Niall needed any special convincing -- and by the time they get to the party, they’re down half their beers. Which is fine, probably, because looking around, Niall barely recognizes anyone here. 

“We make a pact right now,” Liam says, stopping short. “We stick together.”

They all nod. 

“Leave no man behind,” Harry says, before edging his way through the crowd, his eyes peeled for Zayn. 

“I guess a lot of people are going to miss him,” Liam says. “How long is he going to be in Tahiti for?”

“Is it Tahiti?” Niall makes a face. “I thought it was Taiwan?”

“Yemen,” Harry says. “He’ll be at fifteen Yemen Road.”

“It’s Thailand, you doughnuts,” Zayn says, coming up behind them. He’s all smiles. Niall’s hit with the startling realization that he hasn’t seen him since the cruise; it hasn’t felt like he was missing. Which is weird, but only that it isn’t weird at all.

Harry sets his hand on Zayn’s shoulder. “When we get to Yemen, can we stay with you?”

“Shut up.” Zayn shrugs him off, laughing and going in for a quick hug. He hugs all of them, saying, “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” Liam says immediately, taking a beer when Louis starts passing them around. 

“This is for you,” Louis says, and for a second Niall’s about to make a joke about Louis sharing beers with unauthorized people when he realizes Louis is handing Zayn a card. “From me and Harry.”

“You got him a gift?” Niall feels betrayed.

“What the hell, Lou?” Liam sounds equally put out. “Now we look like jackasses.”

“Yeah, but that’s not my and Harry’s fault,” Louis says, him and Zayn both laughing. ”That’s an always thing.”

“Suck a dick,” Niall says, kicking Louis in the shin. “I’m chugging all these beers and then what’re you gonna do.”

“You didn’t have to,” Zayn says, and then someone’s calling him away so he ends up shoving the card awkwardly into his back pocket. 

“Aww, I wanted to see his face,” Louis says.

Liam frowns. “I can’t believe you did that to us. We could’ve brought a card, too!”

“He wrote ‘you owe us $367’ on the inside, Li,” Harry says. 

Niall snorts, getting beer up his nose. It fucking burns. 

“We didn’t have a TV for a _year_ and he screwed us on the last month’s rent!” Louis says, his arms waving. 

Harry pats Niall’s back as he tries to get his breathing under control. Even after he does, Harry doesn’t take his hand away.

They stay there, the four of them, in a small antisocial knot, until the beers are gone. 

“Well,” Louis looks around, “we have two options. One: Liam and I go on recon to steal more beer.”

“Two,” Harry and Niall say at the same time.

Louis makes a face. “Don’t do weird coupley things around me, please.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “There aren’t even snacks at this party.”

“There are, I saw,” Liam looks around again, pointing when he finally spots the table, “over there.”

“One bowl of chips?” Harry raises an eyebrow. 

“Guys, give him a break. He’s got to bring the rest to the starving children of Phuket,” Louis says, deliberately mispronouncing it.

“Ah, yes,” Niall steeples his fingers, “the mission of the Peace Corps: to make sure no part of the world is lacking in honey BBQ.”

“Oh no.” Liam makes a face. “I think a bird just shit in the chips.”

“Come on,” Louis snags Liam by the shirt, gesturing for Harry and Niall to follow, “option two is Jim’s, which has the benefits of being indoors and _not_ BYO.”

**

“Do you remember at the end of freshman year, when we had to take down the lofts --”

Liam’s face lights up “Oh my god, and Louis and you were so hungover you kept having to take breaks?”

“-- and we couldn’t find Zayn,” Niall says, “and it turns out he’d crawled into Harry’s bed to sleep?”

“Through all that fucking hammering, too.” Louis makes a face like he still can’t believe it. It’s nostalgia that makes him sound soft when he says, “That dumbass.”

It’d been anticlimactic, saying goodbye to Zayn. Niall hugged him one last time and wished him good luck and even though Zayn promised he’d keep them updated, it had felt final. Just like everything else lately. They’re like, four days out from graduation. It’s unbelievable.

“I wanted to die that day,” Harry says.

Niall claps him on the arm. “We all did.”

He remembers sitting on the freezing floor, holding a wrench, and trying so hard not to barf. He doesn’t know why it’s a good memory; logic dictates it shouldn’t be, but it was a funny day. All of them hot messes, just trying to get the loft dismantled. They were so young then, even though Niall remembers feeling old. 

“That was the last time I ever drank a Mike’s Hard,” Louis says.

“That’s a lie,” Harry says, “but alright. Sure.” 

“I’m gonna get us another round,” Niall says, reaching for their empty pitcher. “And then we gotta do another round of toasts, so everyone think of something good.”

“I’ll help,” Harry says, following him out of the booth. Liam’s too busy listing all the times Louis has had Mike’s since freshman year for either of them to notice.

“You don’t --” he stops himself when Harry wraps his arm around Niall’s waist, his mouth brushing the curve of Niall’s ear when he says, “I was thinking.”

“This sounds dangerous.” Niall sets the pitcher down on the bar, signalling that he wants another refill. The place is pretty dead since it’s the middle of a weekday afternoon. 

“How do you feel about bathroom blowjobs?”

Niall knows he’s the color of a fire engine. He can feel Harry’s laugh against his back, the way he presses his smile into Niall’s shoulder and then kisses his neck. 

“They won’t even notice we’re gone,” Harry says, when Niall looks back to their table.

“You think you’re that good, huh?” 

Harry’s worming his fingers into Niall’s front pocket; he’s a fucking tease. “You know I am.”

Niall twists just enough so he can see Harry’s profile; he’s going pink, too. He waves to the bartender, who nods that he’ll bring the beer to their table when it’s ready.

He waits, just long enough that he can tell Harry’s getting antsy, before he says, “Yeah, alright.”

They’re leaving town for good soon; if they get caught and kicked out, well. It doesn’t matter anymore.

**

The day of graduation is weird as fuck, everything feeling rushed and slow at the same time. It’s only after the giant brunch with all of their families that it feels real, the four of them meeting up with Sophia outside of the building where Liam and Harry will be walking. They’re mostly split up and going at different times; Niall’s walking the latest so he already knows Harry’s planning on trying to sprint over and catch it in time. 

“Why aren’t you wearing your gowns?" Sophia greets them from their agreed upon meeting spot, a shaded area near one of the oldest buildings on campus, this giant brick building that Niall knows Harry had a ton of classes in. 

“Uh, because it’s not time yet?" Louis shakes his out from where he had it half jammed in his back pocket. “I could ask you why you’re wearing yours.”

“Because I didn’t want it to wrinkle." Sophia rolls her eyes.

“I don’t think that this kind of material wrinkles." Harry makes a face like he doesn’t regularly shop at the Goodwill. 

“Let’s not start, we don’t have a lot of time.” Liam hands Sophia his phone. “Soph, you gotta take a pic.”

“Yes, because I shouldn’t be in this,” Sophia herds them over so their backs are up against the wall anyway. “Just stand like that.”

“I’ll take one of you two after,” Niall offers, Sophia fiddling with the phone.

“We’re good, Mrs. Payne got that covered this morning." Sophia laughs. “Okay, I’ll take a couple so no one complains.”

“For the last time,” Harry yells, “I was about to sneeze!”

“Can we take a picture without arguing about shit from two years ago?" Louis asks through clenched teeth.

“Wait, I can’t tell where the actual camera part is,” Liam says, “Soph, tell me where to look.”

“You guys are all idiots,” Niall says without moving his smile. He feels Harry’s chin land on his shoulder at the last minute as Sophia nods.

“That was a good one, guys." She looks at the screen. “I’ll text it to you, but then we gotta go, Lou.”

“So do we." Harry says to Liam, nodding at the crowd starting to enter the building across the street. 

“Shit." Liam takes his phone back from Sophia, all of their phones buzzing in a rapid succession as they get the photo. “I can’t believe it.”

“It’s fucking crazy." Louis shrugs into his gown, spinning his cap between his hands. “We survived, guys.”

“We did." Niall hadn’t realized that they’d all closed ranks, somehow shifted together so they’re standing in a small circle. 

“It was a pleasure serving with you.”

“Liam, that’s dumb.”

“You were about to quote a poem Harry, don’t even try to lie.”

“It was _one line_.”

“Guys?" Sophia calls over. “It’s like, really time now.”

“Okay, well." Louis turns to Liam. “C’mere.”

They hug, Niall pulling Harry in as well. It feels vaguely ridiculous, the four of them trading hugs back and forth like they’re not all going out for dinner in a few hours. Like they won’t be close enough next year or won’t be in each other’s lives. But something about it feels like they should, Liam digging his chin into Niall’s shoulder while Niall watches Louis and Harry rock back and forth a bit from the force of their hug. 

“Louis,” Niall palms the back of Louis’s head before he pulls away. “See you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis nods. “Liam, Harold.”

“Louis,” Liam grins. “Niall.”

“And to you and yours,” Harry nods, catching Niall’s eye and winking. 

“Wait, it’s my turn to prove I know everyone’s name, right?" Niall laughs when Liam frowns.

“Don’t ruin it, Niall.”

“I’m not ruining anything." Niall pulls on his own gown. “I love you guys, yeah? I’ll see you soon.”

He meets Harry’s eyes as he says it, Harry’s smile growing wider as they all start to disperse in their different directions.

It’s easy, then, to walk away.

**Author's Note:**

> [ritasfault](http://ritasfault.tumblr.com) crawled into our brains and made this greatest art for [this post](http://irishmizzy.tumblr.com/post/132414755385/the-one-with-all-the-football-irishmizzy)! Come talk to any of us on tumblr ([miss-bennie](http://miss-bennie.tumblr.com) & [irishmizzy](http://irishmizzy.tumblr.com))


End file.
